


The Drums of War

by uncagingwardens



Series: Mabari Bred - The Story Of Two Cousland Sisters [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bullheaded Commanders, Ch4: Contains Dubcon, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Love/Hate, Slow Burn, Stubborn Cousland, mentions of F!Lavellan/Josie, will contain spoilers for the base game at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 32,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4963675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncagingwardens/pseuds/uncagingwardens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They always say that when two beasts meet, there is an exchange and a tipping of power. But, when the Lion of Skyhold and the Mabari of Highever have to not only work together, but work together well... Skyhold better be prepared for their snarling maws and snapping teeth. And not only are they dealing with each other, but dealing with the Breach as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What the hell is that in the sky?

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is one of the rare times when I'm actually attempting anything more than a drabble. I haven't done a multi-chap fic in... Well, basically forever. So, welcome! This was spurred because of a thread between me and one of my friends on skype, so enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking this story on as my nanowrimo once again this year, hoping to finish it! I'm working on revising it before November, so stay tuned!

It was insane, this giant green gaping hole in the sky, tossing demons out like it was a game. They called it the Breach, and it made all the dogs howl when it cracked the sky open, casting its eerie glow over the land even as far as Denerim.

The Commander of the Hounds stared up at the swirling vortex in the starry skies, her icy eyes widening in distress as she rounded up all of the dogs and all of her men, getting them inside of the compound and slamming the heavy wooden doors shut, setting the cross-braces in place firmly with the order to not leave until someone knew what the fuck was going on.

They held up, holed up within the safety of the encampment. They were summoned out once the dark creatures began encroaching on her countrymen, her elder sister sending urgent word from the Royal Palace that aid was needed in the Hinterlands. And another came from Castle Cousland, the crest all-too-familiar to the dear Commander. Harper’s Ford had a rift opened up in the center of town, signed by her brother.

“Round up the fourth sector, they’re being shipped to the Coast,” Brienne said, turning to her second-in-command: an elven mage from Highever’s Alienage, a childhood friend of hers, who nodded and went to round up the seven triads of dogs and their handlers.

Once they were packed up and ready to go in their traveling garb, the forest green cloaks with deep blue interiors a signature of the Mabari Class. She climbed atop one of the picnic tables, folding her arms behind her back before addressing her men.

“You are headed to Highever, and you will be under the command of Teryn Fergus Cousland,” she began, standing tall on one of the tables in the yard, her voice carrying over her soldiers, “You are to protect the people of Harper’s Ford from the demons spewing out of… Well, you’ll see it when you get there. Engage any demons who come out, do not get cornered.”

“Yes, ma’am!” They chorused, and she grinned at them.

“We’re doglords, and do what we must—“

“Because no one else will!” They completed the cry before the head of their detachment lead them out of the camp and into the night, their dogs loping at their sides.

Once they were out of the gates, Bri went and packed her own gear, looking at Tilani, her second in command. “We’re heading to the Hinterlands. There're rifts opening up left and right, and with the mages and templars having pissing matches as well, the residents stand no chance of being secure at all.”

“Get everyone else loaded up and prepped,” she added, looking at the redhead elf with an appreciative smile, and Til laughed.

“By the Gods, you’re bossy,” the redhead joked, chuckling and heading to get the men rounded up.

“You know I’m great!” Brienne yelled after her, laughing slightly and packing up her gear and loading it onto her horse.

She was a Commander, one that grew out of her desire to see the noble Mabari revived in every noble house in Ferelden, and running on the battlefield as they were bred to do at their inception all those ages ago. They were beautiful creatures, those that embodied the pure spirit of Ferelden. They were ruthless and tireless, never giving up in battle to protect what is theirs. They are Ferelden.

By her namesake, she should be a Queen, a Teryna, or a high-class lady in Ferelden nobility’s inner circle, sipping fancy teas and governing alongside her husband, who had the real ruling power in the land. She was to be his arm piece, something beautiful to look at. But, fate would see her do none of those. No husband, no rulership. Just herself and her hounds. She carved her own path, laid out her own fate at the expense of her cushy ancestral home, leaving Castle Cousland to her brother and his family.

She was 27 and battle worn, having already served her time during the Blight as a leader at 16, thrown into the fray with little objective than to seek revenge on the man who took the lives of all those she held dear. While her siblings waged war against the archdemon, she held resolute in the face of those who plotted and murdered her family and her guards and townspeople in cold blood. Dragging a thin blade through a wet neck meant confirmation that he suffered before his death, gripped with the fear that her parents had suffered through as well. A life for a life, his error is repaid in the crimson that pooled on the unforgiving floor of the grimy dungeon, caking her boots and her trembling hands.

 

They rode out a few hours later, making haste to the Crossroads and securing a camp nestled on the hillside nearby. Once the perimeter was secured, the dogs were dispatched with their handlers to secure the inhabitants of the small valley while Bri went door to door, reassuring the people and families living nearby that they were being protected, and they didn’t have to worry anymore.

 

However, it took weeks for any word to get to her that anyone else was going to be helping. Weeks her men and their dogs had to endure the stupidity of the feud between factions, and not to mention the fucking demons pouring out of the sky.

 

It was pouring down rain when she received the letter, sealed with the Heraldry of the Inquisition, the thick, forest green wax still slightly warm upon reaching her camp. The bird that delivered it seemed less than thrilled to be out in the downpour.

The letter was written in even, practiced print, the paper of quality but not the frilly sort with embedded threads of color. A request of an alliance, between her and her hounds, and the Inquisition.

She dropped the cup she’d been holding with a splash against her boot, the water soaking into the leg of her trousers as she stood there with her mouth agape. A very uncharacteristic squeal broke from her, laughing as she poked her head out of the tent, “Pack the hounds!” She called, seeing the many a handler lift their head from what they were currently doing, many of them mixing up their kaddises for themselves and their dogs, “We’re going to Skyhold!”

 

At Skyhold, the war table was apprehensive, the atmosphere palpable to anyone within it. They had summoned the Commander while the Inquisitor was out in the Hinterlands, preferring to establish the strong base of their power before she returned from her travels so they could begin planning the next attack posthaste.

“Any word?” Josephine Montilliyet, their ambassador to the many countries in Thedas, breached cautiously, glancing over her notes at the blonde man who was reorganizing his reports.

Cullen was all muscle and plate armor, curly blonde hair and eyes that looked like literal honey. Ex-templar to the Circle of Ferelden that fell under the weight of the Blight ten years ago, leaving the young man scarred and scared for the tortures he suffered. He went to the Free Marches, to Kirkwall just to have to face another Hell, a knight-commander gone insane and placing the right of annulment on the mages there because of the action of one. His titles were impressive, Ex-Templar (which is a task in and of itself), Ex-Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, Commander of the Inquisition’s Forces. They painted a picture of a severe man, one that was level-headed and not prone to outbursts of any sort. One that could command and hold troops to his level of satisfaction.

One not easily angered.

“Nothing, not yet anyway,” Cullen grumbled, pursing his lips. “Maybe we were mistaken, asking her to come…”

“No!” Leliana, their spymaster, interrupted, pressing her hands to the table and looking at the other advisors while a streak of red hair fell into her face, “She will come. If I know the Couslands as I believe I do, the baby of the line is a force to be reckoned with. And her dogs… They’re almost legendary at this point. She will be here.”

“I hope you are right, Leliana,” Josephine hedged, tucking a strand of her dark hair back into its proper place, “We’re going to need all the help we can get, and with Lady Cousland being so closely tied to the crown, it will be extremely beneficial to have her as an ally.”

The doors to the war room came open with a loud squealing of hinges, a tiny blonde woman entering the room with a Mabari half as tall as she was walking at her side, his muzzle just beginning to grey though his eyes were sharp with his intelligence, a thick collar around his neck though there was only a thin lead connecting the two of them.

“Call me a lady again, Lady Montiliyet, and I will disagree. Vehemently.”


	2. Widespread Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Commander Cullen is flabbergasted and affronted. Commander Cousland gets pissed. Manhoods are threatened. Innocent steaks are turned into ground beef.

The commander was thoroughly concerned. Here was this tiny woman, no more than five feet tall holding this dog that looked like it outweighed her three times over with a strap of leather that, compared to the sheer size of the dog, looked to do about as much as a thread would do in stopping him. She commanded the room, despite her size. Holding herself with confidence, and an air and grace known only to the nobles. Great, as if they needed another pompous noble in Skyhold. And he was to be expected to work side-by-side with this woman?

Maker give him the strength not to… Do what? He doubted she would become a problem under him.

Under his leadership, he meant. He pursed his lips slightly as she conversed lightly with Leliana, the women regaling their times during the Blight. From what he was hearing, apparently this woman, who had only been a girl at the time, lead a force to rescue her home and to get restitution against the man that killed her family. Everyone knew about the slaughter at Castle Cousland, at the hands of Rendon Howe’s forces, who was previously an ally and life-long friend to Teryn Bryce Cousland, this woman’s late father.

He scoffed slightly at that. No little girl could do that, even one with the lineage that she has. She would have been trained in the ladylike ways, in gowns and dresses and delicate sensibilities. Not in swords and war. Surely she had help.

Soon enough, it was just him and the woman left in the room, Josie already having spoken to her about her quarters before taking her leave to attend to other matters, leaving the two commanders to talk shop about their war. He’d been absorbed in his own head for that long.

“So…” Cullen began, looking at the woman over the massive war table, eyes gleaming with doubt about what she really was capable of. He was almost asking her to prove that she could do what Leliana had said.

“Call me Brienne, Commander,” she began straight off, swinging the end of the thin lead connected to the dog’s collar as she spoke directly, yet politely, “I have fifty men who need quarters, and I ask you to keep your footmen away from the kennels when the dogs are being handled. Untrained men approaching a dog and handler in its kaddis is a danger to those men.”

“How so?” He said, arching a brow. Maybe she was not as good as Leliana had touted her to be, seeing as she couldn’t even control those mutts of hers, “If the dogs are as well trained as they are rumored, surely keeping my men away is wholly unnecessary.”

She stared at him, almost incredulously. She crossed her arms, the dog coming alert as his handler shifted her stance, “Kaddis is a strongly and uniquely scented warpaint, used to differentiate friend from foe. Your men will likely be harmed if they attempt contact with the handlers or a dog during training.”

“Can’t they control them?” He pressed, crossing his arms defiantly; a mirrored stance to her own, “I will not forbid my men from observing--”

Bri grit her teeth, Cassius pinning the commander with a deep growl that echoed around the stone room with ease, “For a Ferelden, Commander, you’ve little respect or understanding for the dogs. Keep them away, or they will likely lose their cocks. Hear me now?” she said, voice sharp as she slammed the flat of her hand against the hard wood surface of the war table that stood between them, leaning forward towards him with her blue eyes alight with a quiet anger. “You wanted war dogs, and now you have them. If you would like to keep them, I suggest you keep your rabble away from my dogs.”

And with that, she turned and left the war room, Cassius loping along at her side.

Cullen stood there, a bit shell shocked and if he had to admit it, a bit aroused at the display. He was angry, and such anger coming from such a small person was odd to see, but the way she held herself… She was very confident. And stubborn. Cursing himself, he grabbed up his reports and went to his office, stewing over the insufferable woman as he read over the new field reports.

Though stew as he may, the irritation never lost its edge, prickling at his skin. Instead of carving a path across his room from pacing, he stripped down to his trousers and headed down to the yard to beat the straw out of the training dummies. His men gave him a wide berth, unsure as to what had sent their Commander in a rage, but they didn't want to get in his way.

They never dared guess it was a woman of all things. He was normally so resolute, so forthwith and unyielding when it came to others, and to have him off point because of some soft-skinned, soft-spoken woman was highly unlikely.

Said woman would punch them out if she heard that. Bri was not some flower to be placed in a crystal vase, to be watered and admired. She was a brutal force of nature, tearing a war path with her hounds of hell biting the Achilles heel of their enemies. She was a Commander, a voice of reason in the hell that is battle.

And she was stabbing a slab of beef until the blood dripped from her hands, angry tears streaking her face. She hated that, the fact that she got so emotionally overprotective over her men and her dogs.

No man would ever love a woman who loved her hounds more than him. And she was okay with that. Because dogs would not think less of you because you come home dirty and tired, too tired to do much else but eat and go to bed. They’d just go along, tail wagging because you are their favorite person.

She slumped down against the kitchen door, her eyes getting too wet to see out of them properly. Bri balled up her burning her hands, her small fists shaking slightly as she stretched out her sore fingers.

That man just… He rubbed her wrong. Especially with the blatant questioning of her authority over the danger that her dogs can pose.

If he wanted to get his own men hurt, then by all means.


	3. A Drop in the Bucket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halamshiral brings out a different side of the Commanders. Thanks to the wine, of course. And the annoyance of Orlesians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be two parts! This part will be the preface to the next, seeing as it's already sorta long.

It had been a few weeks since Bri had arrived at Skyhold, and she and the Commander’s bickering hasn’t ceased. If anything, he was purposefully pissing her off. Mixing up reports, stealing quills and diverting patrols to get right in her way when she was running the dogs.

It was childish, and what was worse was that they were heading to Halamshiral, and they were supposed to be on their best behaviors. The Winter Palace was renowned for its glitz and glamor and it held the biggest group of Orlesians that Bri did not want to be around. She was trained to do well in the Game, but… The thought of dealing with them was a tad unsavory.

But, she laced up her boots and put on her most charming smile for Halamshiral, walking in step with the Commander towards Empress Celene, her hand gently resting on his arm. The image of perfect unity. A united front on display for everyone in the Orlesian court to see.

To fear, hopefully.

Her hair was done in its normal braids, but Josie had done up her face, turning her into a scarily refined beauty. A face that belonged in the silken gowns, not in the normal attire of someone who runs forces that take down armies.

Someone to underestimate.

And for once, she was completely okay with being the little girl out of place. Vipers strike most deadly when their prey has its back turned.

The court saw them as a cute pair, maybe even a bit of romance blooming between the commanders, but anyone that actually knew them saw that there was palpable tension between the pair. They bowed to the Empress, Cullen leading her off to the side before they detached and stood around awkwardly, waiting for the rest of the Inquisition to be announced and shown off.

Bri straightened her coat, sighing, “That could have gone worse…” She said, glancing at Cullen, who was adjusting his cufflinks. He looked at the woman in surprise, his hand pausing on adjusting the small metal clips in his jacket.

“I… suppose that’s true,” he replied, turning slightly to look at her, brows knit together, “You’re being civil. What happened to you?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes and folding her arms over her chest, her hip jutting out, “What, I can be civil! We’re in a shark tank, and they’re already circling. We need to stick together, show no internal weaknesses. Thought you of all people would know that.”

An amused noise came from Cullen’s lips, a slight smile gracing it, “I do know, I had only hoped that you did as well.” He turned, heading towards the other pair of advisors, who were grinning at each other, seeing something the other pair did not.

With a grumble, she followed after him, eyes wandering along his figure, trimmed in the nicely fitting coat and trousers. A faint blush graced her face before she focused her attention elsewhere, crossing her arms over her chest. No, she was not checking out Cullen’s rear. Nope.

Once the party fully began, the nobles perusing the halls like they had no worries, while the eyes of the Inquisition watched for their target while their elven Inquisitor did her investigating. Bri and Cullen were stationed near each other, and some of the nobles took too much of an interest in their Commanders.

“Are you two… together? How scandalous! What would the Inquisitor think, her two commanders in bed with one another?” One sang, a malicious, dirty smile gracing the man’s face under his mask. Bri pursed her lips, crossing her arms, “I mean, it wouldn’t be any of her business, but it’s a moot point. We’re not together.”

Others were actually getting physical, grabbing at Cullen like he was some piece of meat to be cut up and spread amongst the populace. He hid the nerves well under his small, polite smile, but his eyes looked tortured.

She may not like the man, but she knew one in trouble when she saw it. Bri grabbed up a glass of the sweet, dark wine from one of the trays, waltzing up to the distressed-looking Commander and putting the prettiest smile on her face, “Commander, will you come with me? There are matters that need our attendance in the gardens,” She cooed, gently touching his hand with hers, curling her fingers around his own.

He caught on quick and cleared his throat, apologizing to the nobles, who detached their intrusive hands from him. Cullen walked quickly with his fellow commander, squeezing her hand tight in his shaking one while she walked him to one of the abandoned halls of the palace. She sat him down on one of the long-forgotten benches, pressing the glass of wine into his hands.

“They’re vultures,” She sighed gently, giving his shoulder a squeeze, “Sorry about them. You looked… Terrified.” Bri paused, looking at Cullen as he stared into the glass of wine before taking a large mouthful. Drinking to forget, to wash the feelings of their hands off of his skin.

“I… Do not have a good relationship with the Orlesian court,” he said quietly, swirling the wine glass in his hands, which have slowly calmed as he did. “As most Fereldans do.”

“Can’t say I disagree,” She replied, brushing her hands down her coat a bit, straightening it. “Pompous Orlesian bastards, think they own everyone.”

Cullen chuckled slightly, taking another mouthful of the wine, “Unfortunately, that is their world. What they can’t buy, they coerce into becoming theirs. They’re expecting you to hate them, not to play nice. Use that to your advantage.”

“Now you’re trying to help me?” She said, her tone bordering on incredulous, “Thought you just wanted to make my life annoying lately.”

“We have the same enemies now, in this Maker-forsaken palace. You said it yourself; the least we can do is help one another,” he said plainly, offering her the half-full glass. She grasped it gently, taking a small drink before letting out a pleased hum, and sitting at his side.

“So, we need a plan. There’s an assassin on the loose, and the Inquisitor can only do so much on her own—“

Cullen snorted, looking at her. He squinted slightly, leaning closer to her, “You look funny.”

“Well, that’s not something I—!“ He grabbed her face in his hands, pressing his mouth firmly to her own, earning a surprised squeak from the blonde woman.

His lips were softer than she’d imagined in those late, half-drunken nights after fighting with him most of the day. The passion and anger in his amber eyes rarely detracted from his face, instead often magnifying his features.

And she’d said not ten minutes ago that they were the furthest thing from together. But, before she got a chance to pull away, she felt something kick in, letting her worries go and allowing her to lean into him, grasping at his shoulders and returning his kiss without reservation.

She was going to pay for this later, but all she cared about now was climbing into his lap and holding onto him for dear life.


	4. Bullshit, and other rumours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The effects of spiked wine are clearly seen, and the Commanders are not happy about the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will contain DUBIOUS CONSENT because of a mind-altering drug consumed by both parties. I'm not sure if it counts as dubcon, but I'm going to mark where it ends, so if anyone is uncomfortable with it, they will still be able to read the rest.

* * *

Cullen didn’t know what had possessed him to pull that previously maddening woman into his lap, but now that he had here there… His mind swirled with ideas that had up to this point been refused and dismissed as absolutely mad, and possibly grounds for her sending a hound on him.

But now, she was so pliant and so soft against him, little mouth on his and little hands gripping his shoulders, those thoughts reigned supreme at the forefront of his mind. Him wanting to pin her down, ravage her senseless for all of the problems she’d given him. Fuck her pretty little mouth raw, leaving her hoarse and unable to yell at him or curse like a foul-mouthed man.

She was far too pretty to be doing that. And besides, she could be making much nicer sounds than those brash words.

He held onto her, pulling her down until she sat on his lap, legs splayed on either side of his own. Chest to chest, face to face for the first time without virulent malice being the root cause of the closeness. She stared at him when their lips parted, red tinging her cheeks from more than their proximity, while liquid heat began to pool between her thighs

“You’re poking me,” she mumbled, blue eyes wide with something akin to satisfaction, “Been too long, Cullen?” She purred, a wicked smirk gracing her features. He growled in reply, grabbing her ass none-too-gently, and grinding against her purposefully. Yes, it had been far too long, but she didn’t need to know that.

"You're infuriating," he snarled, standing up and pressing her to the wall easily, her legs locking around his waist and her head tipping back as he opened up her coat and bit her neck to the point of pain on her end. At that, she dug her nails into his back, jaw clenching at the burn of his teeth on her skin. He ground his hard, confined cock against the apex of her thighs with little care but to seek his own pleasure and forcing her body to supply it by merely existing in close proximity. In doing so, he drew breathy moans from her lips, letting her press her hips forward to meet his, seeking the fleeting pulses of desire he gave her in those actions.

"Doesn't seem like a problem," she laughed breathily, and he slammed her harder to the wall, forcing their bodies as close as possible while he ground against her, a fury raging in his blood while pleasure intermingled with it. An intoxicating mixture, to be certain.

They were grinding in the dark like horny teenagers, losing all sense of decorum except that he was sure not to pull her hair out of the braid, or bite her neck above the edge of the high collar of her coat.

He was thankful for the thick material the trousers were made of as he ground himself punishingly against her smaller body, groans silencing themselves against the skin of her neck that he’d turned an angry red color with his teeth. Cullen was losing himself, amber eyes swallowed up with his pupils while Bri’s head was tipped back, one of her gloved hands covering her mouth to quiet her own noises as her thighs trembled and her hips twitched fervently forward, feeling her underclothes clinging to her drenched sex.

She was supposed to hate him. She did hate him, but here he was, getting her off against a wall after some wine and a kind gesture. And she loved it, loved just how much power he could hold over her, how he could just manipulate her much-smaller body without so much as getting out of breath.

A broken whimper behind her hand was all that signaled the orgasm tearing through her, her back bowing off of the wall as a bright flush grew over her cheeks and up to her ears. Shame shot through her once her high had disappeared, Cullen growling his release into her neck as his hips stuttered and then stilled, breath ghosting hot over her bruised skin.

* * *

 

“Fucking shit,” she cursed, dropping her head back against the wall as her little body slumped and she shoved him with shaky arms, “Put me down.”

With a simple nod, he let her down, stepping back with shaking hands, his amber eyes wide and a tinge of fear in them as well. He stared at her, watching her do up her jacket, hiding the skin turning purple with his teeth marks in it. Her legs trembled as she steadied herself, leaning back against the wall, her small chest heaving as she ran a hand over her face.

“Orlesians spiked the wine with fucking impure aquae lucidus,” she growled, sliding to sit back down on the floor and putting her head in her hands for a moment.

“How’d’you know?” He asked, surprise and anger coloring his tone. Sure, he really disliked the other Commander, but they were drugged and they’d given in to whatever this drug had done to them. It… They had been together under not their own consciousness. That was not good.

“I’ve been drugged with it before,” she deadpanned, staring at him, “My sister’s wedding. There were some little pompous Orlesians boys, wanted to try and sweet talk me back to their rooms. I had a helluva lot more than what was in there, but that’s what it does to you, the impure stuff anyway. Makes you lose your mind a bit. Luckily, my sister tasted my wine when I started acting weird and she got me out of there before anything bad happened. I’m so small, I have a low tolerance for that vile shit. The pure stuff just gives you hallucinations.” She scoffed a bit, “Surprised they didn’t drop the coin on the purer form.”

“Oh,” he said quietly, offering a gentle hand to her, to which she stared at for a moment before taking it and allowing him to lift her to her feet, her legs still feeling weak from the drugs. “Are you all right?”

“Just don’t let me go, I might fall over,” she said seriously, “And that’s gonna raise questions, more than us holding hands."

Cullen nodded morosely, walking her slowly back to the ballroom, seeking out Josephine and informing her what had gone on with the wine, not what they’d just gotten up to. He’d live through being uncomfortable with damp underclothes to save face, as would Bri. To say the ambassador was livid was a bit of an understatement, her eyes widening and her lips pursing into a tight line before she left her sister to go have a stern word with one of her associates, Leliana not too far behind her.

Shit, she probably knew.

By the end of the night, Bri was exhausted from all of the murder and the Orlesian bullshit and the attempted assassination. She’d stuck out most of the night sitting near Cullen while the Orlesians tutted about them being together, most of their words rolling off of the pair of blondes like water off a duck’s feathers. He held her hand in his own much larger one, checking on her verbally every once in a while. She was sure all the nobles were gonna be starting rumors on how the Commanders of the Inquisition were not only involved but were possibly expecting a tiny military force, seeing as how Bri turned down wine and anything alcoholic, sipping on a goblet of water that she barely let out of her hand. No one was spiking her again. And if they did, she’d kill them

Once everything had been said and done, one final thing was required of them. Seeing as they’d been deemed together by the standards of the court, they were expected to share a dance. Or so Josie had informed them, although she was very hesitant in doing so.

Bri dragged herself out of her seat, sighing heavily as Cullen straightened his jacket and cleared his throat, glancing at the small woman next to him.

“Let’s put on a show for these pompous bastards and then go home, agreed?” she said, brushing her coat smooth with her hands.

“Agreed.”


	5. War Room Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A human side to the snarling teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually turning this into a NaNoWriMo! 
> 
> url: http://nanowrimo.org/participants/uncagingwardens/novels/drums-of-war-961493

It took a solid week for Bri to get back up to full capacity, while Josie fretted about the fact that she had been borderline poisoned at the Winter Palace. The Cousland merely chuckled, shaking her head as if this had really been no big deal. It had happened, and she was fine now.

Though, Cullen was taking it a bit differently. He was much luckier than her, the liquor working itself out of his system in a few hours. They’d… _canoodled_ at the Winter Palace. They, who, up until then could barely hold a civil conversation without it breaking down into an all-out knockdown drag out brawl in the war room over his tone of voice or her suggestion about something human military-wise.

Now, they actually… Spoke. Constructively. And it was strange for everyone involved.

“The dogs will be out in the yard today,” Bri said, picking over her notes in her leather-bound book of notes, random leaflets of paper sticking out between some of the pages, “Four triads. Should be room for some of your men to practice nearby.” Her voice was calm and quiet, slim fingers brushing over the pages that had previously gotten wet, the parchment a bit warped but legible.  She didn’t feel the Commander watching her, his normally sharp and hard amber eyes soft, and curious.

“Would… you tell me about them?” He asked very hesitantly, walking around the table to stand next to her, gazing at the book on the table instead of at her, “I’ve never really been around dogs most of my life. Let alone ones like this.”

She took a step back, looking at him in surprise, “You never seemed to care much for them besides their use as weapons of war,” She began, confusion clear in her voice, “Why do you care now?” _It better have nothing to do with the fact that we **came** together like forbidden teenagers._

“Well,” he began, his hands behind his back, “I’m curious as to why you like them so much. Usually… Women tend to stay away from wars and hounds.”

Bri laughed in surprise, leaning back and looking up at the now confused man, “You haven’t been around many women, have you?”

He clenched his jaw, sighing heavily. _Here we go again…_ “Is that pertinent?”

“Yes, don’t Templars take vows of chastity or something?” She continued with an impish grin, absolutely amused by the turn of conversation, and his irritation. “And you’re older than me. That’s a little sad.”

“Well, for accuracy’s sake, I’m not a Templar anymore,” Cullen said with a grumble, crossing his arms like an insolent child. The only thing missing was the pout. “And no, it’s not something required by anyone in the order, though many take a… sort of self-imposed celibacy because they are devoting their lives to the Order… I was not one of them.” After a moment, he burst out, “That’s the second time someone’s asked me about this! Why is everyone curious about whether or not I’m a virgin?!”

“Shout it from the rooftops, why don’t you?” She laughed, wiping her eyes, “Do you own a mirror, Commander, or are you just mildly daft?” To that he sputtered a bit, a rosy blush growing on his cheeks, which only seemed to fuel her laughter further, getting her to coo at him. “Aw, you’re _adorable!”_

 _“I am not!”_ He protested, throwing his arms, “You’re _insufferable!”_

“Uh huh,” she giggled. “Regardless of your experience, or lack thereof, with women. Not all of us wanna play dress up and sit on thrones pretending we rule the world while our husbands, who were matched with by our parents mind you, actually do the work. You know who my sister is, you know who I am. If anything, you should be less surprised that I don’t want to sit idle.”

Cullen’s brows furrowed, “But, your parents—“

“Yeah, they were murdered in a war,” She replied, gently closing her book and doing up the small closure, “My mother was born and raised on the deck of a warship, she took down her first ship on her own when she was fifteen. She became famous for sinking Orlesian warships, and my parents met on her ship. They fought together when King Maric reclaimed Denerim…“

She paused, looking down at her book, tracing her fingertips over the embossed Cousland wreath in the dark, well-worn leather cover, “Is it really any surprise that I’m here, Cullen?” She reasoned, looking up at him with an almost unreadable expression. He watched her, his golden eyes wide and his mind at a loss for words as he just listened to her speak.

“I _was_ raised learning how to fight, how to lead. Contrary to popular belief, I actually can do my job. I did it during the Blight, when my family was splattered on the floor of my ancestral home, when I knew my sister could die any second of any day and I was going to have to take her place at home, ruling the people I grew up with. I was prepared to lose _everything._ ”

She wiped her eyes slightly, turning away, “I was born preparing for the worst; I was neither the heir nor the spare…. That’s a saying in Starkhaven, but it’s no less true in Ferelden noble families. You make yourself useful outside of your family so you have somewhere to go when you don’t get the power.”

“I went to the kennels,” she said after a few heartbeats, dabbing her eyes with her sleeves, “I apprenticed from when I was a young teenager until the Blight hit, and I took the dogs there with me to campaign against Howe. I… I ended up losing most of them because I had no idea how to pair them to work effectively. Cassius is the only survivor of that.”

“I… I can’t imagine what that was like,” Cullen finally said, his voice quiet, as if being too loud would break the atmosphere of the room.

“Losing everything and almost everyone you loved, when you’re that young,” she breathed, picking up her book and holding it to her chest, cradling it like a mother does a newborn child in danger, “It breaks you, and who’s there to pick up the pieces? I had Cassius. Dogs healed me, and if that’s not the most Fereldan-thing ever, I don’t know what is.” She turned, walking out of the war room slowly, keeping her breaths even and measured.  Never let on that something was wrong. Wolves go after the weakest in the herd.

She turned, looking back at him as she stood in the doorway, “I’ll see you around, Commander.”

And with that, she headed out of the war room with just her footsteps echoing down the hall to signal her departure, leaving a shocked Cullen standing next to the war table.

That was a side of her he never even knew existed.

Were all his assumptions wrong? 


	6. Breaking Lyrium Vials Is My Favorite Activity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra is worried, and the Inquisitor is making it worse.

Having visitors in the kennels was odd. Especially since most people tended to avoid Brienne, mainly due to her reputation for making even the stoic Commander Cullen irate.  So, when the Seeker entered the loud kennels, seeking out the little blonde Commander, it was thoroughly surprising.

“Commander?” Cassandra hedged, approaching the woman holding a squirming puppy in her arms. Surely she was not as terrifying as the rumors said. When she turned around with a smile on her face, Cassandra knew the rumors were way off base. “I have information you may like to know.”

Brienne blinked, arching a brow slightly before placing the pup back down with her siblings and stepping away, gesturing with her hand towards Cassandra as she began walking towards the stables, “Walk with me.”

The Seeker merely nodded, easily gaining on the smaller woman and walking leisurely beside her, glancing around until they were more secluded, “Commander Cullen did not wish for anyone else to know, but I thought it would be pertinent for you to know as well. You work with him quite a bit.”

“That would be correct,” Bri reasoned, looking up at the Seeker in curiosity. She was unsure of what exactly was so crucial that Commander Cullen would not tell her himself.

“It is not something…" Cassandra sighed, rubbing her forehead, "The Commander requested I not inform you. Specifically,” Cassandra continued, fiddling with her fingers in an anxious manner, glancing up towards Cullen’s tower before back to Brienne herself. “But I thought you should know.”

“Cassandra,” the blonde chided, looking at her with a soft expression. Bri admired the Seeker, she really did. “Please, just tell me. This stalling is not conducive.”

“Cullen is, as you know, a Templar,” She said, pursing her lips slightly, “He is withdrawing from lyrium, and it is not an easy process. Most that attempt it either relapse or they do not survive it. I informed the inquisitor, and she did not take it well. I believe he needs a friend, someone to make sure… He doesn’t do anything rash.”

A cold chill went down her back, and she nodded silently before patting Cassandra’s arm in reassurance, “I thank you for telling me, even though I’m sure you know the rumors that we are anything but friends,” Bri said, speaking slowly. Really, she was fearful. She’d seen men withdrawing before, some of her own men who had left the order because of the stress withdrew under her leadership. “But, I will pay him a visit.”

“Thank you,” The seeker sighed in relief, a smile growing on her face, “I realize the Inquisitor is our leader, but I do not think she has the Commander’s wellbeing in mind.”

“Point taken,” She nodded, tucking some of her hair back out of her own face, “I’ll head up right away.”

With that, the women parted ways, Bri climbing up the nearest set of stairs to reach the Commander’s tower, taking the stone stairs two at a time. Her legs ached by the time she got to the top, and she paused at the door, pressing her palms and an ear to the door.

Within, there was the soft clinking of glass vials, the shuffling of papers and the strike of a match. With no more ceremony, Bri opened the door and walked in, “What are you doing?” She demanded, seeing the glowing blue vial in his gloved hand, a startled, pained look on his face.

“What the Inquisitor said,” he said, his voice sounding exhausted and defeated, his shoulders slumping as he stared at the little blonde, no fight left in him to do anything to hide his shame at possessing the leash he’d been trying to break for years.

“I don’t give a _damn_ what she told you to do,” Bri continued, her voice harsh as she walked to his desk, her fists balled at her sides before she snatched the lyrium vial out of his hand and crushed it under her boot, the glass crunching and popping against the dark stones. “You’ve worked too fucking hard to give up now.”

Cullen flailed after the lyrium, his heart in his throat. When she broke it, destroyed the vial… He was stuck between killing her and thanking her. While he stood there in shock, she walked up to him and grabbed him by the front of his tunic, yanking his face down to hers.

“She does not give a shit what happens to you,” Bri reasoned, pushing him into his desk chair, “She just wants you efficient. Not healthy. Not safe.” She braced her hands on his shoulders, staring at him, “I’ve gotten men through the withdrawal. It ain’t pretty, but it’s for the best.”

“This shit,” she gestured at his box of implements and the two lyrium vials remaining unopened on his desk, glowing innocently against the dark wooden surface, “Will kill you if you try and take it again. I’ve seen it,” she said, her voice quiet but hard, her eyes searching his for any hint of understanding. Flashes of memory from a young man dying in her arms, hot with the fever but cold to the touch as the lyrium took his life out from under him came to the forefront, a sickened shudder running over her skin, “It’s horrible….”

She sucked in a deep breath, looking at him, “I won’t sit idly by and let her kill you.”

“Why do you care?” He said, his voice warbling with the unsuccessfully concealed swell of emotion in his chest, his hands gripping the armrests, “You hate me!”

“One, I don’t hate you,” she sighed heavily, flicking his forehead and rolling her eyes that almost matched the shade of the drug on his desk, “Sure, you piss me off and make me want to strangle you, but it’s more like you’re an annoying  sibling. Two,” she said, her voice getting soft, “No one deserves that.”

He stared at her for a moment before covering his face with his hands, fingers digging into his skin. He was a weak, weak man. He couldn’t…

“You need to take that away from me,” he said, looking up at her pleadingly, “Keep it away from me. Lock it up, burn it, destroy it. I don’t care. Just… Don’t let me near it.”

Bri nodded, touching his head lightly before turning and smashing the other lyrium vials on the floor, flinging his kit out the window and down the mountain. “There we go. I’ll make sure you won’t get an eyeful of those glowy boxes anymore, all right?”

He nodded, slumping in the chair and rubbing his hands over his face again, “I… Thank you,” Cullen breathed, looking up at Bri, who smirked impishly at him in return.

“Heh, never thought I’d hear that outta you,” she teased, and it was Cullen’s turn to roll his eyes at her with a groan of annoyance.

“You’re _still_ insufferable,” he reminded her, almost good-naturedly.

“Uh huh,” she laughed, walking to the door and pausing in the doorway to look back at him, “And light makes the headaches worse. Find a dark place and take a nap. It’ll help.”

“You know,” he said after a moment, glancing at her while she poured water on his floor, washing the deliriously singing drug away, “You’re not all that bad.”

“Look who's finally caught on,” Bri grinned, setting the now empty pitcher on his desk. “Maker’s balls, your desk is a wreck. How do you get anything done?” She rolled her eyes muttering something about ‘messy men’ before she got his reports and other missives organized, “You know your men are talking about us.”

“What?” He said, sitting up a bit straighter while his brows furrowed deeply, “About what?”

“You know, the usual. How many time we’re going to punch each other before we kill each other or fuck each other senseless. I hear they have a betting pool going with some of the Inquisitor’s friends,” she said, sounding like she was talking about the weather, not the latest scuttlebutt around camp.  

“And… You’re _fine_ with this?” Cullen deadpanned, staring at her with a shocked expression written on his face. “I think you’ve spent too much time in the kennels.”

She rolled her eyes, throwing a crumpled piece of paper at him, “I mean, what am I gonna do about it? I don’t even know what to do about it, nor do I care to expend the energy to try and figure it out. There're bigger problems than that. Like, let’s see… The giant gaping hole in the sky? Yeah, that’s still a thing. It’s still there, except demons are exploding out of it as much now. Except for that darkspawn freak we gotta deal with.”

“I… Suppose that’s true,” Cullen reasoned, “But, they’re—“

“Anything that keeps morale up in this shitty situation, I’ll take,” she replied quietly with a shrug, “Get some rest, I’ll be talking with the inquisitor.”

She left his office, feeling quite content with the outcome of their ‘talk’.

… Until she realized she left all that lyrium lying on his office floor, and he’d probably disregarded the glass shards and taken it anyway.

Well, shit. She could go back in, and possibly be strangled for trying to get him away from his drug of choice.

Or she could wait, knowing the detox was just going to be more hellish than it already was becoming.

Waiting seemed like the safest, seeing as his last dose of lyrium was going to just hurt him more in the long run, and he'd grow to regret it.

 

As for her conversation with the inquisitor, it was less talking and more of hard truths being thrown. The elven woman, a mage, had little idea what the lyrium was doing to him, no knowledge about just how toxic it could be to someone who was trying to detox. It was like pouring oil on a fire instead of water, it makes it explode and it hurts so much worse. Bri was not backing down, even when the Inquisitor’s hand flared green to match the liquid emerald eyes of the mage.

She’d stared down dragons and wyverns, and had been left for dead before. That was fear, this was not. This was anger.

The Inquisitor didn’t like her, fine. Bri didn’t like her much either. But, the Inquisition needed the dogs for their siege at Adamant, which was quickly coming up on the horizon. After the mess at taking the fort in the Emprise du Lion, and all the men being moved out there instead of here training, they were gonna need all the help they could get.

So, Cullen would not have to take lyrium, and Bri got to stay because she was no longer a ‘maybe’ option. She was a necessity, a crucial and integral part of their military force.

And that’s the way she would have it.


	7. Commander Nursemaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detox is more dangerous than originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's gonna be some flashbacks from Origins in this chapter. Also an instance of choking/strangulation.

Cullen nursed the cold cloth against his head as a headache raged on. He was out of commission for the day, and his fellow Commander was tending to him like she had her own men who were stricken with the shakes and the fever and the mind-splitting headaches. She’d brought water, ice, some food, and some odd-looking potion in glass bottles with red ribbons tied around the neck. From the smell, they were elfroot and something else.

He was up in his bed, a heavy blanket laid over his shaking body. She had put in a requisition with her own money to get his room fixed, so now he had a proper roof and windows that were blacked out with heavy black curtains, probably something Tevinter-made. The cold darkness of his room actually seemed to help… Well, at least it wasn’t making it worse.

“Cullen,” she whispered, touching his bare shoulder with her bare hand, “Turn your head, I’m gonna give you something to help the pain,” she continued, uncorking the sweet-smelling liquid. He did as he was instructed, pain radiating from his muscles as he moved to press shaking, chapped lips to the lip of the vial and swallow it down. It didn’t taste horrible, just thick and overly sweet. He coughed slightly, letting out a low groan, “Whussin’ that?”

“Elfroot,” she began, taking it away from him and recorking it when he was finished half, “Honey, blood lotus, and some spindleweed. It helps, and that’s what matters.”

He grumbled in acknowledgment, turning his head back to rest fully on his pillow, jaw clenching and unclenching as the chills came back with a vengeance. Brienne sighed delicately, rolling her sleeves up and laying a cloth into a basin of cool water. She peeled back the blankets, leaving his navel and lower covered, before grabbing the rag and wringing it out to dab at his skin to cool him down as his fever spiked.

This was the worst part of the withdrawal, where the need of the body for the drug became dangerous, why the ankle shackle was necessary.

Though he didn’t seem to even notice it as his skin was wiped clean, another rag laying wet across his forehead, and another over his throat. But the potion kicked in soon after, letting him relax as he started feeling even slightly better.

Once she was finished, Bri returned the covers up to his shoulders, setting out to mix him up something to eat. She reached onto his bedside table, picking up a piece of the soft sliced bread before smearing jam onto it and tearing it with her fingers to feed to him.

Maker, she knew people were going to be talking even more now. Here she was, alone with Cullen. His men were going to have a field day, and the groaning of the ex-templar was doing little to douse the hot topic that their interactions had become in the eyes of his soldiers. But, she’d much rather have her colleague alive and well than give a rat’s ass about what his men were speculating about what they were doing.

She _did_ know that Cullen minded, though. Which was weird; usually men who get accused of sleeping with a woman were flattered about it.

Or at least every man Bri knew before now would have been. But, he seemed much more reserved and liked to keep his private life private. Which, she could definitely agree with. But, they were just rumors, nothing more than the gossip of nosey people who had nothing better to do with their time than to fantasize about what their superiors were getting up to during their free time.

 

But when he started struggling, flailing his limbs, it pulled her sharply out of her headspace.

_Fire, the smell of burning flesh. The tortured faces behind the Templar helms. Cullen screams out for help, for someone to stop Uldred, to invoke the right of Annulment What he’s seeing is searing into his head, his brothers and sisters and charges being turned into abominations and monsters before his eyes and set after him, a young man scared out of his wits with lyrium veins and metal skin._

_Something pins him down to the cold stone floor, wavering over him is the desire demon. She’s shouting at him, shaking him and holding him down. She’s smaller than the normal ones, but that just makes her easier to dispatch with a swift kick of his leg, the other seems stuck to the floor. The monster gasped in pain but did not budge. He flipped them, big hands reaching around her throat and squeezing until she was gasping and crying, those lyrium blues staring at him with something akin to fear. But, demons don’t fear..._

A burst of pain to the side of his head brought him out of It. He stared down at what had been the demon, his stomach dropping at what he was doing. His hands were wrapped tight around a pale neck, a terrified woman stuck beneath his shaking body while she gripped one of his arms and in the other hand held the brass pitcher, now dented from the force she hit him with it. It was his friend, the one that was taking care of him.

Cullen jumped up, his hands trembling as fear sat in his stomach, making him nauseous as he watched her roll off the bed and onto the floor, coughing and muffling her cries into her fist with her back to him that he could just make out from the light of the single candle sitting across the room.

He’d almost strangled her, almost killed her…

He stared at his shaking hands, watched as she climbed into the chair next to his bed. Her neck was red, and the marks were distinctive long fingers. His hands, those that he swore to not hurt another innocent with, had wrapped around her neck tight and squeezed hard enough to hurt her.

“…I-“ He started, guilt wracking his body as he watched her pull the collar up on her shirt, trying to hide the marks of hurt.

“No, it’s not your fault,” she rasped, looking at him. She was scared, scared of him. But, she’d made him a promise to help him through this. “I signed on for this, I knew the dangers.”

“But I almost killed you!” He pleaded, looking at her with sorrowful, wide eyes, “You’re not safe here, and I’m not safe to be around.”

“Almost… Is the keyword,” she coughed, wincing, “Get some rest, you worrywart.”

“Brienne, please, you need to see the healers,” he nearly begged, and she snorted.

“Yeah, you’re not my mom, don’t call me that,” she replied, shaking her head with a slight chuckle.

“But… Isn’t that your name?” He asked in confusion, “That’s what you told me to call you when we met.”

“Yeah, when you were just some Commander prick who thought I wasn’t capable of doing anything,” she replied pointedly, arching a brow at him as he looked down slightly in shame. “Sound familiar?”

“… How did you even know that?” He questioned, slowly laying back down on the bed, his limbs still shaking slightly, but the potion she’d given him seemed to be working fully now. He didn’t feel like he was dying anymore.

“You think you’re the first one to think I was some sort of incompetent woman who just happened to have a reputation surpassing her parents in the ways of war?”

Cullen was quiet for a moment, before he sighed, “I thought you were… Assisted. That’s all.”

“You didn’t want to believe I actually did everything,” she confirmed with a short nod, “Makes sense, most men are afraid of women getting more recognition than them. Especially in their own profession.”

“Hey, that’s not--!”

“Sure,” she chuckled, looking at him in amusement. “Regardless, you are my colleague, and you’ve shown you’re not a complete sack of dicks. So, please, call me Bri. It’s my preferred version of my name.”

“Of course,” he replied with a short nod, glancing at her. Cullen was quiet for a moment, nothing but the faint chatter from outside to be heard aside from their breathing. “I am… I’m still sorry.”

Bri looked at her hands for a moment with a heavy sigh, “Do you blame yourself for what happens in dreams? Whose blood you spill, what fates become of your friends while you sleep? You should not feel the need to apologize for what happened. It was unintentional, and I was in the wrong place at the worst of times. Bruises heal, as will you. Just give it time. Ferelden was not founded in a fortnight.”


	8. Night in a Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are underway for the siege of Adamant, and Cullen had a revelation.

Adamant fortress. It carved up out of the wasteland like a mountain, the walls crumbling but the tallest towers still remaining, scraping the sky. An old Warden fortress, built upon tunnels that went as far down as the deep roads.  Abandoned and left to rot in the Western Approach, now overrun with blood magic and demons and crazed wardens.

The smoke rising from the fort coupled with the stench of blood and carnage in the air made the approach to Adamant a seriously daunting one. The dogs were antsy, their whines carrying over the warm sands while their handlers looked on, their grips white-knuckled on their leads.  Bri was no different, except she hid it better.

Cassius was walking at her side, his kaddis a pattern of dark blue swirls down his sides, mirroring the color and scent of the dots and swirls on Bri’s hands and skin. She had two other dogs in her grip, two bulky females who were Cassius’ oldest daughters, their markings the same as his.

The entire force was decked out in the same patterns, but their scents and colors differed per group. To keep each other safe, to separate family from a friend from foe.

She’d even gotten Cullen to have his men markup, green swipes down their hands that smelled like mint and elfroot. It wasn’t terribly horrid smelling like some of the kaddises that the hounds wore, but it was enough of a smell to tell the dogs to protect these men, to not tear them limb-from-limb.

She halted the hounds at the outskirts of the small camp Cullen had set up as a base of operation to finalize the calibrations of the war engines and trebuchets and to have everyone battle-ready. Well, as ready as they were going to get, facing down demons and addled wardens and whatever else this fortress was hiding behind its walls.

“What’s the plan, Cullen?” Bri asked, stepping into the tent and brushing the dust off of the cloak, “Where are we putting the dogs?”

The Commander looked up from his maps and missives spread out on a makeshift table, his lion helm sitting on the side of the schematic of the fortress, “After the front lines,” He replied, “You and the hounds are going to be ground troops, obviously. I expect they all know what they’re to be doing.”

“Well yeah, this isn’t our first time through the ringer,” she replied, glancing over the maps, “You’ll need to get the inquisitor to make sure you can get the ladder secured at the tops of the walls, since I’m sure there are gonna be demons crawling over every damn inch of this place. I’m sure they’re already there.”

“And you’d be right,” He countered, shuffling his papers and handing her a letter from one of Leliana’s people, a chart full of numbers and their locations around the walls of the fort. “Latest numbers from this morning.”

“Fucking shit, this isn’t going to be pretty,” She hissed, giving it back to him after running the numbers through her head. “I’ll have four packs run the walls, I’ll secure those ladders if the Inquisitor can’t. We need backup plans for backup plans.”

“And we’ll have them. The Inquisitor and company are just hitting the Orlesian border. Why they wait until the last minute to leave, I’ll never understand.”

She stared at him incredulously, her blood beginning to boil, “You mean to tell me, _they’re not even here?!”_

“I’m glad I’m not the only one less than happy about it,” he replied with a slight smile before looking back at the missives, “We’ll have to get everyone settled for the night, set up patrols… Should be easiest to just have some of my men rotating since there’s more of them, they can take smaller shifts.”

Bri nodded, looking at him gratefully, “That’s… Seriously appreciated, Cullen. I’ll pass on the news. We should get everyone’s tents set up in a circle with this one outside of it and closest to the fortress. A first line of defense.”

He nodded, stepping out of the tent and heading to get his men to pitch the tents while Bri set the cots up, one on each side of the tent. She and Cullen would be manning the command center together, seeing as not all of the supplies had arrived, and there were just enough tents to house the men and the dogs.

They’d have to share a living space for a night… Or more. She seriously hoped Cullen didn’t snore.

Night slowly crept over the Approach, sending the first bursts of starlight up into the murky blue of dusk, leaching out to white spots on the black night sky. The first round of patrols was sent out to inspect the perimeter of camp while the Commanders were knee-deep in preparations, sending out missives to secure supply lines until the Inquisitor and her companions arrived at the camp. Which, at the rate they tended to move, could take a few weeks at least.

They sent the last few out on horseback with one of the messengers, retiring to their shared tent in comfortable silence save for the shuffling of boots through the shifting sands of the desert. Cullen opened the flap, gesturing with a gentle hand for Bri to go in first before she stared at him in confusion and laughed gently with a shake of her head.

“Thanks,” she conceded as she stepped into the warm tent. Their makeshift table had been broken down and two cots were placed inside, one at each side of the tent to give them their space. Cassius was snoozing lightly beside on of them, where Bri’s pack had been laid. She headed over to the massive animal, running a gentle hand over his head before sitting down on the cot and undoing her boots, “There’s so much sand in my boots…”

Cullen laughed gently, walking in and fastening the flap shut with a few ties, “Welcome to the Western Approach, where there’s nearly as much sand in your shoes as there is on the ground outside.” He walked over to the small table that was now taking place of the map table, a few bottles of water and food and an unlit lantern sitting on it.  He lit the oil in the lantern, casting a warm glow around the tent as he hung it in the ring at the top of the ceiling, “That’s better.”

Bri smiled slightly, tucking her boots under her cot and pulling off her socks as well, tossing them in her pack into a smaller bag reserved for dirty clothes, like socks and underclothes. She sat cross-legged on the cot, digging through her bag to get out one of her tunics that she wore to bed while Cullen got his bed made with his sleep roll and pillow, getting himself out of the heavy armor her wore on a daily basis, leaving him in just a pair of legging and a loose fitting shirt.

She snuck peeks at him while he had his back turned, a slight flush coming to her face that she’d blame on the lack of breeze in the heavy canvas tent. When they first met, she thought he was a dick, a pompous asshole who thought he knew everything and he was the end-all-be-all military power at Skyhold. That rage, along with a dose of drugs, fueled his actions with her at Halamshiral, him pinning her to the wall and taking his pleasure with no consideration for her. She resented him for that until he was genuinely apologetic for it.

He’d come to her after their talk in the war room weeks after, his hands folded behind his back and his amber eyes downcast as he apologized wholeheartedly and sincerely, giving her a small gift, trying to make amends. It had been a new journal, quill, and ink, embossed beautifully with her family’s crest, and it was even painted in the forest green and light pale olive tones that were on her crest adorning the shoulder plate of her armor, on her bow guard.

It was thick, leather bound vellum, the quill made from a tail feather from a hawk, the ink a deep, indigo blue. _Fine things for a fine lady_ , Tilly had snickered to her when she saw Bri scuttling back from the yard with the items clutched in her hands. _A courting gift_ , she’d also said.

That, Bri scoffed at and told Til to get her head checked by the healers. He was thoughtful and kind and apologetic, sure, but he really wasn’t looking to court a doglord when he could have a lady of his choosing.

Regardless, she loved the gifts and swore to use them once her old journal was filled up. Not that he needed to know she really enjoyed the gifts.

At that point, she was still uneasy with him, unsure whether or not he really gave a damn. But, when she took his lyrium, broke it in front of him, tossed his kit down a mountainside and he still didn’t have the hateful fire he had in him like during the first months they fought on a nearly daily basis, coming to blows and bloody wrapped knuckles out in the yard more often than coming to consensuses.

“You’re staring,” Cullen said with a gentle smile, breaking Bri out of her scattered thoughts. She made a noise of annoyance, looking back down at her pack and tying it closed again while her cheeks grew red.

“You’re funny looking, of course, I’m staring,” she recanted with a roll of her eyes. She got off of her bed and started getting out of her gear. But, unlike Cullen, who would layer clothes under his armor, her armor wasn’t made of plates of metal like his. Leathers and chainmail were not known to be roomy enough.

But, he was no different than any of her men. So, she did what she normally did, stripping the chainmail, the leather, and her undershirt off easily, leaving her back exposed to him if he was to look.

And look he did, golden eyes wide as he seen something unexpected carved into her skin. Crossed her back from her lower back on her left side to her shoulder on the right was a thick pink sword scar, healed for a long time it seemed. You never expect to see any sort of imperfections on people coming from the noble class, so a scar this large… Was incredible to see.

“It’s from the Rebellion,” she spoke softly, looking over her shoulder at Cullen, who had the decency to at least look ashamed, “From one of Rendon Howe’s men, I got it the night they slaughtered my family in the castle. I was in my pajamas, Cassius fended off most of them, but one dragged me from my bed and tried to kill me… That’s all he managed to do. I have smaller ones, but that was the worst one…”

“I… Would you tell me about it?” He said softly, looking back at her once she’d pulled her bedshirt on, discarding her trousers into her bag, though her shirt covered up everything while she found some clean underclothes and leggings.

“The Rebellion?” she asked, turning to him once she was finished, her armor folded up and sitting atop her bag that she’d moved to the floor. Bri sat cross-legged on her cot, elbows pressed forward into her knees.

Cullen nodded, “I’m curious.”

She smiled ever so slightly, “That was possibly the worst year of my life, you realize. I was sixteen, barely old enough to see suitors without being watched like a hawk by an escort. We left Highever, me and a few of the elves from the alienage. That’s how I met Tilly, and we’ve been friends ever since… We rode to all the Banns in Highever, and most of them disregarded me because I was just the daughter of a Teryn, and I had no real say or sway with them.”

_It was pouring rain the night they attacked the castle, storming the gates like the Maker was crashing through her home. It was pouring the night they rode for the Banns, the apprentice kennelmaster riding with an elf with a scraggly band of castle guards and stableboys at her disposal._

_They laughed her out of the hall, telling her to go back to her dolls and her dogs. It wasn’t until Howe’s men were riding into their homes that they actually listened._

_And by then, it was too late._

Bri regaled the tale late into the night, her fears choking her while Cullen listened in quiet, letting her compose herself and take all the time she wanted. She was an animated woman, one with a passion too big for her small stature. She damn near did as much saving of Ferelden as the Wardens had. And here she was, no recognition, no fancy cushy home. She did what she had to.

“We are Couslands, and we do what we must,” she said to him when he’d mentioned it to her, his brows furrowing, “We’re one of the oldest families in Ferelden, nearly as old as the Theirin line. If we hadn’t done it, Ferelden would have been literally shit out of luck.”

And then he understood. She hadn’t done it for the glory, for the thanks. She did it because it was right, it was just, and it was her ancestral duty to her homeland. She was Ferelden, in all her mannerisms and her ways of living. Nothing over fancy, everything functional. She rarely allowed herself a dalliance, a treat just for herself.

She was their history, their future, and their present day. She spoke more plainly than any noble, more educated than the common man.  Straightforward, rash, tough, battle-worn and not afraid to fight for herself in the face of much bigger beasts. Ones that would be able to break her in a second if they really wanted to, or throw her on a table and have their way with her without a second thought to the morals of it. Ones that hated her and what she stood for, where she came from. The way she spoke, hos she held herself in front of others.

She is Ferelden, and he had been _Orlais._ He’d belittled her, hated her because she was fiery because she was passionate and didn’t give a shit what he thought of her. Because she was strong, and he feared the power she had.

She was magnificent, and he was fucking _blind_ until now.

Maker forgive him because he had seriously screwed up.

 

“Now look who’s staring,” Bri chuckled softly, now laying down in her bedroll, a heavy blanket laid overtop of the fur, “Go to bed, Rutherford. There’s war to be had in the morning.”

            Cullen merely grumbled and got up, blowing the oil lantern out before heading to bed himself.

 

Though, the peace in the tent did not last long. Cullen had been nightmare-free for a while, and he had thought he was out of the woods. But, tonight he was stuck in one of the worst nightmares he’d even had. Blood caking every surface, running freely down the halls while chunks of his friends, old and new, rolled past him. He thrashed and screamed, finally coming awake when Bri shook him, pinning him to the cot with all her strength, her legs straddling his waist as she held him down. The Commanders were trembling, each of their own reasons, but fear was the main one. Fear for themselves, fear for the other person.

“Cullen!” she yelled, pinning his shoulders down, “Calm down, you’re okay!”

“M-Maker,” he stuttered, his wide amber eyes flooding with tears, making him unable to really see. He clutched at her arms, his hands shaking horribly. He heard her sigh, felt her shift to just sitting on the edge of his cot, wiping his cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt, the soft fabric getting rid of the escaping tears. She gently shushed him as the sobs wracked his frame, his large mass curling into her tiny form. Running her fingers through his curls, she hummed an old tune to him. A childhood lullaby, one his mother used to sing to him when he was just a wee sprout, tucking him into his bed and kissing his head.

            A simpler time, where he didn’t have to fear his own dreams.

            “Shh,” she murmured, pulling his blankets up around his shoulders, “It’s fine, you’re fine. Nothin’s gonna get you while I’m here.”

            Cassius was sitting next to the bed, and he laid his big, heavy head on Cullen’s arm, licking his hand gently. Bri rested her hand on top of Cassi’s, smiling softly, “See, you got a war dog to look after you. Ain’t no one gonna hurt you while he’s here.”

Cullen let out a muffled, choked laugh, digging his fingers into her arm, a silent plea to not leave him alone. Not now. The carnage was too fresh in his mind, slammed in the forefront like a knife between the eyes.

Bri sighed, nudging Cullen, “Move over, if you’re not gonna let me go, I’m sleeping here.”

He shifted onto his side, letting the small woman lay on her side in front of him, dragging the blankets up around herself. They settled in for sleep, and Cullen fell asleep quite rapidly with the warm, solid body next to his.

He woke soon after dawn to a soft weight on his chest, blonde tresses tucked under his chin and draped over his shoulder, his arms wrapped around the smaller, warm body. He merely sighed, squeezing them closer to himself, an anchor to the waking world. He was awake, and he was not stuck in some nightmare where everything seemed the same.

She smelled like soap and earth and honey, and her silky hair was tickling his neck while she slept without a care on his chest, her chilled toes pressed against his legs.

She yawned against his shirt, rubbing her eyes slightly before pillowing her head back on his chest. That little movement made his heart jump in his chest, praying to the Maker she was not going to be angry at him when she woke up, snuggling with him.

“Good morning,” she mumbled, looking up at him with her sleepy blues. He gave her a slight smile, his own hair disheveled and a curly mess.

“Thank you for staying,” he whispered, “It helped.”

She gave him a grin, lifting her head to press a small kiss to his cheek before climbing off of him and out of bed, careful not to step on Cassius, who was snoring beside the bed on the floor of the tent, “No problem, tough guy.”


	9. Andraste's Mabari

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh they thought the wounds had killed him,  
> But then he limped out toward the fire.  
> And Hessarian, he shed a tear,  
> As that dog laid on the pyre.
> 
> And there's Andraste's mabari  
> By the Holy Prophet's side.  
> In the fight against Tevinter,  
> That dog would never hide.  
> They say the Maker sent him special,  
> Always loyal, without pride,  
> So he could be the sworn companion  
> Of the Maker's Holy Bride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS ANIMAL DEATH!!
> 
> Also BEFORE YOU READ THIS, go back and read what I edited with the last chapter. I added a bit to that.

When they say war is hell on earth, that in the middle of a battlefield, the gates of hell could open up and no one would notice. Adamant was no different. Demons pouring out of fissures, blood magic-addled wardens swarming them.

The men went in first, knocking back quite a bit of the force before the dogs went out, Bri and Cassius and his daughters getting up as high as possible as quick as possible. Bri slammed the end of her bow into a warden’s face, hearing the sickening, wet crunch of bone before she shoved them off of the battlements to the ground below.

She was an archer, so high vantage points were her friends. She undid the dogs from their leads, yapping at them to engage the demons on the walls while she picked off wardens and demons, bringing death from above in the form of arrows tipped with flammable, explosive poisons. Her kaddis was blood red, marked from her chin down the column of her neck. She wore it like warpaint, as most of her handlers did.

She held the ladders for Cullen’s archers, letting them scale the walls in relative safety despite the ballistics flying through the air, exploding and crashing into walls all around them. Her fight went long into the night, hearing the commotion and yelling and the deafening screams and explosions as dawn approached.

Leaving her post was not an option until all the men coming up the ladder were safe and secure at the tops of the battlements. When the dragon flew over, however, it shot fear through everyone and the dogs scrambled a bit. Cassius got caught between a warden and a demon, taking them both down while still sustaining injuries that would have downed another dog.

Once the battle began to die down, and the troops began to regroup, Cassius began acting weird, snarling at Bri and the other handlers. She chalked it up to merely his first big fight in years with actual injuries and let it be that.

As everyone tended to their wounds, Cassius’ behavior got worse. He’d snarl and snap at people, and he’d started to run off.

Bri ran after him, but that’s when her heart fell out through her stomach. There was her dog, her mabari, her imprint mate. He was pinned to the ground, Cullen and a few of his men looming over him while he whimpered and cried. He was scared, and Bri sprinted over, only to be bodily restrained by two of the soldiers still wearing their plate armor.

“What is this?” she screamed, fighting them though they held fast in holding her in place. “Get off of me, that’s my dog!”

“He’s possessed, Commander,” one of the men said, beginning to drag her back when the man holding Cassius down drew his sword.

“Like hell he is!” She shouted out, picking her feet up off of the ground and slamming them into one of the men’s knees, getting him to dislodge his grip before she swung the other over on top of the fallen man, sprinting across the sands of the western approach just in time to hear a wet crunch of a sword through flesh and bone.

Bri’s throat went tight and she slammed through the ring of men around her dog, dropping to her knees.

Cassius was laying on his side, a sword sticking out of his ribs, rivers of blood running from his mouth and nose and the obvious wound on his side.

She let out a broken sob, crawling quickly over to him. She lifted his massive, heavy head, cradling it in her lap while his blood stained her trousers and her hands, “No… No, Cassi,” she croaked, thick tears dripping down her dirty face, “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart, you’re gonna be all right…”

She screamed for her healers, Tilly stopping at the edge of the ring of men with a tortured expression as she watched her Commander bowed over her dog, an inquisition sword buried to the hilt in his chest. The soldiers dispersed with their Commander, leaving Bri sobbing over her dog’s dead body while her own men surrounded her in silent solidarity.

Bri felt like her heart had been broken, torn out and stabbed right in front of her.

Cassius didn’t deserve this. He was scared, not dangerous.

She sat out there for hours, crying until there were no more tears left, filling camp with the gut-wrenching sobs.

When it started to rain, washing the blood away, she gently placed his head down on the sand with a quiet command to have him put safely in his carrier, wrapped like a soldier, and sent back to Skyhold for a proper burial.

She stormed into the Commanders’ tent, making the chatter inside fall into dead silence. She was bloody, rain-soaked, and _angry._

Bri walked right up to Cullen, her jaw tight and her eyes alight with a fury that looked like it belonged to Andraste herself before she snapped.

She slammed her fist into his face, a snarl painted across her face as her stomach felt sick with grief and loss. Cullen stumbled back, clutching his now broken nose that was bleeding profusely down his face.

“You killed him!” She screamed, her hair caked with blood and sweat and dirt from Adamant, hands bloody with the blood of her dog, the one that one of his men had killed right in front of her. “You fucking ORDERED THEM TO KILL CASSIUS!” She sobbed, her screams just getting louder and louder, “I thought you were my friend, but you just had my best friend murdered!”

She ran at him, slamming him to the ground and gripping tight to his tunic, “I fucking hate you!” she wailed, her tears carving clean paths down her dirty face as she grabbed his hair, pulling hard as rage and fire burned her insides.

He wasn’t even trying to fight back. He did issue the command, he thought what he was doing was right, the high of battle still weighing on his mind and his judgments. The dog seemed to be corrupted, he hadn’t even thought of the consequences. But now…

_“Do you know what an imprinted mabari is, Commander?” She’d asked him one day as they were discussing war tactics. He hadn’t known, so he shook his head._

_“It’s when a mabari chooses you, because you are strong, because you’re good, and you’re a perfect match for each other,” she explained, “Cassius imprinted on me when I was a baby. It’s a stronger bond than friendship or companionship… It’s like siblings. We fight as one, we work as one. Andraste had an imprinted mabari, and that’s why he crawled onto the pyre with her. We live and die for one another.”_

She screamed and wailed and hit him and slapped him, and he took it without daring hit her back. He’d made a bad call, and stolen something precious from her. He remained there on the ground on his back even after her second-in-command dragged her away, her screams fading into heart-broken sobs and wails.

Cullen rose from the dirt, sporting a broken, bloody nose, bruises on his cheek, and a black eye. He headed away to the healer, just mainly to get the nose fixed.

Bri, once far away from camp, screamed and screamed until her voice was hoarse, taking her bow and throwing it as hard as she could before collapsing to the ground and sobbing into her hands. It was like someone had killed her parents all over again, except now she really had no one. The burning anger inside of her grew into an inferno, nearly threatening to consume her save for the tears she was choking on.

Maybe she should climb on that pyre with him. 


	10. Don't kiss a Cousland when she's angry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral, and a Fereldan version of 'One of Us' from the Lion King 2

"You need to make amends, Commander,” Josephine said, looking over her notes at him as she sat at her desk, “Somehow. Lady Cousland has not been out of the kennels for weeks, now.”

“I _know,_ Josephine,” he replied, running a hand through his hair and pacing in front of her desk, “I… I don’t know how.”

“You are Fereldan, Cullen,” She replied, raising her voice slowly, placing her hands on her desk and standing up, “You should know how to make reparations, especially considering you killed one of the revered Mabari, one bonded to a Cousland, of all people… I have got to ask what _exactly was going through your head?_ Because that alone could get disastrous for the Inquisition.”

“He was going after my _men!”_ He recanted, throwing his hands up.

“And _your men_ had just fought demons and lived, surely they could get hold of a hurt dog,” Josephine snapped back at him, “I am _disappointed_ at your actions, Commander.”

He stared at her, wide-eyed and tense. Josephine was normally the most level-headed of them all, and here she was snapping at him.

“I do not get angry over much, Commander,” Josie said as she rose from her desk, picking up a small basket full of wine and other delicate-looking goodies, “But when it could cripple the Inquisition, and threaten us, I am more than willing to, as you Fereldans say, bite some heads off to get it fixed. You need to fix it, and I do not care in what manner you do it.”

With a swish, she turned and left him in her office, all alone. Cullen felt empty, numb to the whole event. He’s killed men and dogs before, demons and abominations.

Why is he getting worked up over one stupid mutt, just because it had a name and a bloodline and an owner who he thought was gorgeous and that would kill him in a second if he ever went near her again.

He shook his head, growling in irritation. He didn’t have some stupid, juvenile crush on that woman. He couldn’t. They were just too different, from two different backgrounds.

He was from some peasant family in Honnleath, she was born in a gilded cage that was Castle Cousland. She had titles and bloodline and Ages of a family at her back, like her dogs bred for war, born way back in the histories before they were written properly. He had hard work and scars from his time as a Templar, he had blood on his hands from the same time. He had burdens, she’s never even fathomed what a burden is.

He was kidding himself if they could ever be friends, let alone really anything else.

 

Cullen left the keep, walking the battlements while the cool fall air ran over his skin through the layers of his clothes, watching the leaves drifting like snowflakes from their trees going dormant for the winter. He noticed a figure lounging in one of the dying trees, blonde hair whipping around in the icy winds coming down out of the mountains.

It was Bri, and he knew it could be no one else. Skyhold was temperate all year, and she was the only person stupid enough to go sit around in the freezing Frostback wind.

He rolled his eyes, sighing and pulling his hood up before leaving the keep, the winds biting viciously at any of his exposed skin.

She was sitting up in a tall oak tree, a small bottle of alcohol nestled in her lap. She was dressed up in a dark fur cloak that nearly swallowed her up leaning back against the trunk of the tree with her legs outstretched onto the thick branch she was seated on.

“Go away, Cullen,” she growled, glaring at him as he approached through the blustering leaves falling out of the great tree over her bottle, the liquid a rosy pink wine that smelled like strawberries and raspberries.

“No,” he yelled back over the wind, “You’re being ridiculous, get down.”

“Come up here and fuckin’ _fight me._ ”

“Now you’re just being an idiot,” he grumbled, “You’re drunk in a tree, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Go fuck off, Cullen,” she said, glaring down at him, “What, never seen a person mourn their dog before? Oh wait, this is _your fault!_ ”

He sighed heavily, beginning to climb the tree, “Look, I’m sorry about what happened with your dog—“

“His name was Cassius,” she snapped, tears leaking down her face.

“I’m sorry about Cassius,” Cullen amended, looking around before lifting himself up another few branches, “I did not have a clear head… I should have consulted you.”

“Damn right you should have!” She laughed brokenly, pressing the ice cold wine bottle to her cold lips and taking a long swallow. “He was just hurt and scared… Like anyone else would have been,” Bri trailed off, her voice getting quieter as she wrapped her fingers around the neck of the bottle, staring into the pearlescent pink liquid.

“I really am sorry,” He said quietly, standing on a branch to the left of her, “I hadn’t thought he meant that much.”

She shot him a glare colder than the winds battering his face, tears running down from her sky blues. “I’ll kill your sister in front of you, maybe them you’ll get it.” Bri recorked the bottle, shoving it into her bag before swinging her legs off one side of the branch and putting her back to him to wipe at her eyes.

Cullen stared at her, sighing gently and climbing onto the branch with her, “I don’t think I’ll ever get it,” he admitted quietly, “You and him… I’ve never seen any two people, let alone a person and a dog, work together in such a tandem. It was like he was an extension of you when you fought together, your actions mirroring his and vice versa. It was actually really, truly impressive.” His voice was full of awe, looking at her as she sat and stared at the landscape that was quickly becoming barren of leaves as they were swept away by the bitter winds whipping around them.

She looked at him, her little nose all red as tears fell freely from her face, “Fuck, I miss him,” she croaked, her shoulders shaking as she started outright sobbing, her chest heaving under her heavy fur cloak.

“I know,” he said quietly, hesitating before wrapping his arm around her shoulders, bringing her a bit closer to his side. “Anything I do will never make it up to you, but I won’t stop trying.”

Bri leaned into him, surprisingly enough, curling her cold hands into the fur of his cloak as she sobbed her heart out. Cullen merely provided something sturdy for her to hold onto, giving a gentle squeeze to her shoulder with his gloved hand before rubbing her arm in a soothing manner.

It felt… Really odd to be holding her. She was small, but she felt strong and sturdy. She fit nicely against his side, her head perfectly tucked against his shoulder. It was strange and foreign, and he was half expecting her to shove him off of the limb and let him fall.

But, she didn’t. She just… calmed down and wiped her face with her sleeves. The hurt was still very prevalent in her face, but she at least was collected and sober enough to realize she was shivering like mad.

“I’m really drunk,” she said with a slight, sad laugh, “Can you help me down? Maker, this was really stupid…”

 

A half hour and twenty close calls later, they were safely back on the ground. She stayed close to him, and he wrapped an arm around her to keep her steady in her inebriated state as they trekked back to Skyhold on the uneven terrain between her hiding spot and the keep itself.

By the time they got back, Bri realized the funeral would be starting soon. A lead weight settled itself in her stomach, and she felt like she was getting a hangover though she was still rather drunk if her balance was to show for it.

“Come with me,” Bri said, looking at Cullen, her eyes almost pleading with him, “Please?”

He nodded slightly before she began walking up the stairs and through the keep. She shoved the heavy door open to the garden to see the dog wrapped in blue linen laid to rest on a bed of flowers on top of stacks of wood, so his spirit could be released from his mortal coil and he would be able to join Andraste’s side. “Of course,” he confirmed, walking over to where the rest of her men were gathered, the majority looking absolutely _pissed_ at the man accompanying their commander. They glared and muttered ‘traitor’ under their breath as he passed them, the fury radiating from them was palpable in the worst ways.

He was the enemy, he had taken one of their brothers away from them, he hurt their Commander so badly that she had been in seclusion for almost a month, issuing little more than for them to maintain the dogs and don’t get into trouble while she drowned herself in her sorrows and in the wine arriving in crates from Highever.

No apologies from him would even begin to fix what had been done. Because an apology is not worth a life.

Many of the dogs, dressed in their war harnesses and wearing kaddis that looked as dark as pitch, snarled as he walked past, bearing their deadly teeth. Cullen shrunk away from them a bit, while Bri walked tall next to him down the aisle lined with snarling hounds and angry handlers. She knew they would not interfere.

They made no move to hurt him because their Commander was walking beside him and was not issuing any command to intervene. She wanted the traitor there.

He stood beside her as she lit the torch, lifting it and facing her men, her face sullen and still dripping tears.

“We lost someone at Adamant,” she began, her voice quiet but audible to everyone in the vicinity. No one could see her shaking, except Cullen. “A great fighter, an example of what a bonded pair could be. We need to send him home.”

“Because Andraste will welcome him to her side, as she welcomes all children of Ferelden,” the handlers replied back to her, and Bri whispered as she wiped the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve, “And we will rejoin him in due time when she calls us to her side.”

He felt foreign and seriously unwelcome as he stood at her side, not daring to lend a helping hand, for that could and would most likely be seen as some sort of provocation. And many of the handlers had their hands resting on the releases of the dog leashes.

They were ready for it, expecting it.

They view him as a major threat now, one that would not hesitate to kill any of the dogs.

And, he was terrified to his very core.

She lit the pyre, sobbing sharply as the wood started to catch. She removed his leash from the buckle on her hip, folding it up and tucking it under his head. She whispered something in a foreign tongue, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before laying a laurel wreath and a blue ribbon with him.

She was marking where he was born, who he served, and who he was bonded to. The Cousland wreath, the colors of Highever, and the lead with her name stamped on it.

Cullen watched her in the deafening silence as she said goodbye to her lifelong companion, only the popping of the fire as it gained strength echoed in the gardens, everyone else had been cleared out for privacy’s sake. Only Mother Giselle remained, standing under the cover of the keep.

Bri walked back beside the pyre, her hands trembling as she clasped them in front of him. “Go,” she said, dismissing her men, “Tend to your mabari, and make sure they’re okay. Take them for a run… Til will be joining you with my girls.”

They nodded, turning by rows and exiting the gardens through the same door they entered.

Bri walked over to one of the benches, putting her face in her hands as the fire grew to an inferno before Cullen’s very eyes, the linen beginning to burn away, leaving the dog’s injuries to be seen. He’d been hurt severely and infected with something nasty looking, probably a poison from one of the warden’s weapons before the sword had taken his life.

He would not have survived his injuries, but it was his fault he was ultimately dead. He gave the order.

He sighed heavily, walking in quiet footsteps over to his fellow Commander, “Bri?” He said, lightly touching her shoulder, to which she shoved away and stood, staring at him.

“No,” she blurted, backing away from him, “I… I can’t…”

“You can’t what?” He pressed, brows furrowing in concern as he walked towards her slowly.

“Just no!” She snapped, snarling at him as she drew her bow from her back, drawing an arrow to him, “Get away from me.”

He held up his hands, still walking slowly towards her, “I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m not the enemy—“

“Bull- _shit!”_ She screamed, firing the arrow and sending it flying just past his ear. She let her bow fall to her side, and he walked right up to her.

“Get the fuck away from me--!” She yelped as he leaned down and slammed their mouths together. A fury boiled over in her, and she reared her head back and slammed in into his with a scream and a crunch of her own nose. He recoiled with a startled and pained expression, clutching his face with his hand.

“Don’t _fucking touch me!”_ She growled as her nose bled freely down her face.

“I’m s-sorry, I-I-“ He stammered, eyes wide.

“Fuck off, Commander,” she hissed, picking up her bow and drawing it once more. This time, he high-tailed it for the door, getting it shut just in time for the arrow to bury itself in it, the tip pointing right between his eyes.

“You will never be one of us.”


	11. A Little Birdie Told Me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are they writing friend fiction about these two?

Winter hit Skyhold hard, the winds howling around the fortress with enough power to make the normally temperate inside of the walls a bit colder, letting frost grow over the gardens and turning it into a glittering menagerie.

A flower bed had been created where Cassius had been laid to rest, a large stone resting in the center with the inscription of Andraste’s Mabari and a sleeping dog at the bottom. The bed was full of blue and yellow flowers, a set of stepping stones walking over to the foot of the stone that had a ring of plush moss growing around it.

Bri visited on the daily, sitting against the stone and just listening to the goings on of the keep all around her. The nobles learned to never get too close or too nosy with her, for she’s given looks to rival that of an archdemon in human form.

The rumors were more pervasive than before, speaking of broken treaties between Ferelden and the Inquisition because of the murder of a dog. Of a strained romantic relationship between the Commanders, meaning some of them seen him kiss her in the gardens, and then seen her slam her head against his in the span of a few heartbeats.

Ludicrous, really, but Bri found them even mildly amusing. They’d never been involved, and she really doubted that they’d be anything ever. Yes, she was attracted to him. But, the past cannot be re-written and that stands resolutely between them, creating a crevasse spanning leagues. Not only that, but duty holds firm between them like walls made of dwarven stone, never to be breached. It was all so ridiculous, she could barely help but laugh at it, while feeling a sort of pain inside of herself.

She finally had the chance to be with someone, but it seems the Maker bid it an impossible task to put such strong people together. Not that she was complaining right now.

She braided new leads as she sat before the dog stone, as it was coming to be called. A tribute to Andraste and her regal breed.

“Commander Cousland?” One of Leliana’s people piped up, standing outside of the small sanctuary, “Lady Nightingale requests your presence for tea in the rotunda.”

“Thanks,” She replied with a nod, standing up and tucking the leather straps back into the canvas bag that she then handed to the messenger, “Can you please take this to Tilly? She’s my second in command.”

“Of course, Commander,” the small elf piped up before heading back inside. Bri brushed off her cloak and trousers before making her way into the keep and up through the rotunda, nodding courteously to Solas and Dorian as she made her way to the top level.

“Leliana, you want to have tea with a dog lord?” She snorted, walking over to the spymaster’s desk, now covered with a soft blue linen and delicate tea cups and a kettle and cakes of all sorts of colors. “We’re not the neatest folk.” Bri took her seat, unclasping her cloak and letting it lay over the back of her chair.

“Of _course_ I’m having tea with you,” Leliana said with a tinkling laugh, her hood off of her flame-red hair for once. “We should talk. The rumors are much a flutter as of late, about you and our other darling Commander. And how you broke your nose on his face.”

“And I’m sure you know for damn well me breaking my nose is not a rumor.”

“I do,” the redhead replied, pouring hot water into her cup of tea leaves, “There still lies the problem of making reparations with the Commander. I realize it is his fault this all is happening, but he really does have the Inquisition’s best interest at heart—“

Bri held up her hand, looking at her flatly, “He made a shit judgement that cost him my confidence and my friendship. That’s on him. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but you’re here because duty dictates it so, am I correct?” Leli reasoned, sipping her tea delicately. “I know how you Fereldans are. Stubborn as oxen.”

“Yes, it’s my duty to see this through, and to keep my men safe,” Bri replied with a sigh, making her tea with sugar and cream. “I want my home as safe as the next person. What is your point?”

“I am not proposing you hop into bed with Cullen,” Leliana said, “But would you two be able to possibly begin rebuilding trust between one another, possibly a friendship? With the factions as divided as they are, I see no way we can confidently go into another battle with Corypheus and his forces.”

“My men get along fine with the soldiers, and vice versa, ” Bri said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“But our Commanders do not,” Leliana reminded her, dipping one of the little powdery cakes into her tea for a moment, “We need to be a _united front_ in the face of this menace. We cannot fight and win a war when out military commanders are waging _war_ against each other.”

“Then, what do you suggest?” She replied, pursing her lips.

“I suggest a hand-to-hand sparring match,” the redhead said with a grin.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Oh no, I am completely sincere,” she giggled, “It’ll be good for you two getting out the anger.”

Brienne sighed heavily, drinking her tea, “If you think it would help…”

“Of course! Commanders are usually very physical people, after all. What better of a way to resolves a problem?”

“Better have the healers on standby,” the blonde said with a sigh, going back to enjoying her tea.

 

A day passed before they actually met in the ring. The temperate nature of Skyhold had come back into its normalcy, the winter not so harsh as the last few weeks had been.

Bri was waiting inside the keep, her big black fur cloak wrapped around her. Underneath, she was wearing a simple short tunic and a pair of leggings and boots. Her hair was done in a tight braid, coiled around the base of it to make a bun. Her hands were wrapped and wound carefully by Tilly, who knew how to do a lot of hand-to-hand combat, having grown up in an alienage.

Cullen was dressed in his normal sparring gear: trousers, a long sleeved tunic, and boots, hands wrapped as well by himself. His blonde curls were a bit mussed from his earlier training but other than that he looked normal. They walked into the ring together, disrobing and laying their cloaks on the fence, keeping well enough away from one another. Surrounding the fence was nearly the entirety of the Inquisition’s military forces, the handlers, and the soldiers intermingling and taking bets as to who was going to submit first, or who was going to draw first blood.

So far, the odds were in Cullen’s favor mainly because he towered over her in height and stature, but Bri was leading when it came to who would draw blood from their opponent first.

She was small, but she was dangerous. And he knew that quite well since his busted lip still quite sore from when she slammed her head into his face.

The two second-in-commands began the match with a ringing of a bell, and the Commanders slowly circled towards each other, a set of predators looking for a weakness of the other that they could exploit to get the upper hand.

The lion struck first, swinging at her with an outstretched arm, to which she ducked to avoid. She tucked her shoulder in, running at his abdomen and hitting him squarely in the stomach, knocking him back and knocking the breath out of him.

While he wheezed, she grabbed ahold of his arm and dropped herself like a dead weight to the ground, bringing him toppling over as well. Cullen flailed and tried to right himself while she scrambled up and got onto his back.

Which, honestly, was a mistake for the featherlight woman. Cullen got up with no problem, dumping her off his back and returning her to the dirt with a resounding ‘oof!’ from her when she connected with the soil beneath their feet.

He turned in just enough time for her to lift her feet and slam them into his knees, knocking them out from under him and dropping him to the ground as well.

This sort of wrestling went on for a while until Bri started wearing down, making one too many mistakes that lead her to be bodily pinned by Cullen, ending the round.

“You know,” he panted, “You’re out of practice with this whole hand-to-hand thing.”

“I was never trained,” she replied as she wheezed, squirming a bit while he held her down. “Teach me how to fight, I’ll show you I can win,” she challenged, giving him a mild glare.

“Deal.”

Meanwhile, Leliana and Cassandra were up in the Mage’s tower, overlooking the sparring match that had just ended. They were giggling like mad, and Cassandra had a dreamy look in her eyes.

“You know, if they would stop hating each other for a single second, they would be really happy together,” Cassandra said, leaning on the railing on the small balcony.

“I agree,” Leliana replied with a smile, “It’s obvious that Cullen cares for her, but she’s a very coarse woman, not unlike you, Cassandra.”

“Yes, but while I am coarse, I do enjoy the pretty things. She doesn’t seem to like ­ _anything_ besides her dogs.”

“Do we really know that?” Leliana posed the question, arching a brow, “She does not seem to let on much about herself to others. And the Commander is pretty clueless when it comes to women and romance in general, so he’s already blundered on that front.”

“And she seems very… Not happy with him,” Cassandra said with a slight frown, crossing her arms, “By Andraste, is this why you became a spymaster, to get Cullen a _girlfriend?”_

“No, not at all! It’s just a very welcome perk of the job,” the redhead said gleefully, a bright grin blooming on her face. “I’ll ask her sister what Bri likes. But, I’m very sure sending her flowers isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“Except Cullen, if he blunders it again.”

The spymaster sighed and nodded, running a hand through her hair, “Yes, except for that… At least we know he’s interested in her.”

“And I think she is in him,” Cassandra reasoned, watching the two begin the second round of sparring, “Before Adamant, they were beginning to get close, and I heard one of the men saying he seen them laying together in their tent before they were awake. She was laying cuddled on his chest, her head tucked under his chin…” She trailed off, a little smile on her face.

“Unless it was something else,” Leliana replied, “Preserving body heat?”

“They had enough bed rolls for both of them to have their own, and her cot was set up on the other side of the tent, across from his. He probably watched her change into her sleep clothes...” The seeker said, her face going a bit red, “Why they are not together, I will never understand. That’s always how it goes in the books.”

“The Commanders are a bit different than romance novel characters, Cassandra,” Leliana laughed gently, “Though you do have a very good imagination.”

“Well, that much is clear,” The seeker replied with a slight sigh, “Cullen would be on bended knee, begging her forgiveness. Instead, they are rolling around in the dirt brawling like animals.”

“Well, they have been known to lash out like wild animals,” the spymaster replied with a slight laugh, “It seems only fitting that they resolve their issues in a barbaric manner.”

‘And if they get hurt?”

“Time heals all wounds, but sometimes pain can be used to temper their anger,” she said as she watched them lift themselves out of the dirt, blood on someone’s face and bandages, “I think whoever bet on our tiny Commander drawing first blood is getting paid handsomely right now.”

“Wait, people are _betting_ on this?” Cassandra asked incredulously, her eyes wide as she looked at her old friend, “Seriously?”

“Yes, of course! The men and women in the army are just as invested in this as we are, Cassandra. They’re the ones who are still holding out hope that they’re going to get together.”

Cassandra sighed lowly, crossing her arms over her chest, “We should get back to work, lest our duties slip away whilst we are busy watching them fight.”

 


	12. To Fight is to Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flipping commanders and drinking in the tavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! I ended up with a nasty cold, and then I got swept up with school and thanksgiving.

Weeks of sparring finally tempered the tempers in the Commanders, returning their relationship to some semblance of a platonic relationship.

Now, they sparred for a bit of fun. Now that she was being properly trained, Bri’s put Cullen on his back more times than he cared to admit, laughing as he stared up at her with a stupefied expression.

Like right now.

Brienne laughed heartily, standing above Cullen who was laying in the dirt, rolling his eyes, “As much as I do that, you should know to expect it!”

He groaned, sitting up stretching his back, “Remind me to actually pay attention to what you’re doing.”

“You’re no fun when you get spacey, you get weak and boring,” she snorted, helping him up and brushing the dirt off of the back of his sweaty tunic, “Come on, I’ll buy you a pity drink.”

“You know just how to rub salt in the wound,” Cullen sighed in exasperation, shoving her lightly before walking with her to the tavern.

Bri bumped her hip against his, rolling her eyes as she grabbed them some drinks and headed to a table, nodding to Bull with a grin.

“Knock him on his ass again, chief?” He called, grinning widely behind his own tankard.

“Well, of course! Can’t disappoint, can I?” She laughed, sitting down at the table while Cullen sighed heavily. Bull slapped his back, smirking, “Don’t be so bent out of shape, Cullen. Hell, I’d let her flip me any day of the week.”

Cullen went a bit red, and Bri snorted into her cider, “Are you trying to kill the poor man, Bull? And keep that sorta talk in the bedroom! This is a ­ _refined_ eating establishment!” She cackled, clutching at her stomach as she laughed.

“Refined my _ass,”_ Bull snorted, shaking his head while Cullen merely chuckled, smiling slightly from behind his mug as he watched her animated chat with The Iron Bull.

She was... Happy, for once. Or at least she looked like it to Cullen. Her hair was a messy bun on top of her head, some tendrils sticking to the back of her neck thanks to the sweat they worked up while sparring, her ears still a bit pink from the exertion that had once colored most of her skin a rosy pink shade. She was dressed in a snug tunic with short sleeves, and dark leggings. Though it was the middle of winter, she was barefooted during their match.

No matter what she wore, always there was a small loop of chain around her neck, a circular pendant at the lowest point, an impression of her family crest with her name inscribed on the back.

Her middle name was Haelia, he’d seen it when she’d pinned him a few days ago.

Not that he’d been staring down her shirt, he wouldn’t do that. But he often got distracted watching her move that she’d always gain the upper hand and that always ended up with him face down in the dirt.

She was an archer, and the muscles in her arms were pretty impressive on their own. But, she also hiked and ran with the dogs. Most people would think she’s just all soft, but she can give as good as she receives, turning the tides of a fight with little more than a well-placed foot.

“You all right over there, Cullen?” Bri piped up once Bull had gone off to train with Krem in the yard, “You’ve got that thousand league stare.”

“What? Oh, right. I’m fine,” he said with a slight chuckle, setting his mug down on the table, “I was merely thinking—“

“So, that’s what that face is for,” she giggled, and Cullen rolled his eyes, “What’s got you occupied, Commander?”

She used his title more than his name nowadays, and he really wasn’t sure what to make of that. He usually only used her name when talking with her, called her Commander to his men.

“Why do you call me that?” He pondered, tilting his head to look at her purely in curiosity, “I dropped your title months ago.”

That took her by surprise, blonde eyebrows shooting up as she swallowed her mouthful of cider, placing the tankard down on the surface of the table once more, “Because…”

“Because?” He grinned, laughing lightly, “Cat got your tongue?”

“You, shut up!” She grumbled, face turning red, “Because is a good enough reason.”

“You said yourself, ‘because is never a reason, just an excuse’.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” she retorted, flicking a piece of bread at him that had been sitting on the table for a while.

Cullen swatted the bread away, laughing, “You sound like my mother!”

“Maker, don’t say that!” Bri exclaimed with a groan, leaning back in her chair, “That means I sound like my mother too, and that’s the last thing I wanted. She _nagged me for everything!”_

He chuckled, leaning forward on his elbows a bit, “So, your mother is the famed Sea Wolf, is she?”

“She is,” the blonde replied, sitting up a bit at the mention of her mother. Some subconscious tie back to her manners lessons as a girl. _No elbows on the table, no slouching. No weapons or dogs at the table, Brienne! How many times have I told you?_  

“What of it?”

“It’s interesting,” He remarked, giving her a light smile, “You’re the daughter of two of Ferelden’s biggest heroes.”

“They’re just my parents to me,” Bri said with a slight shrug, “Sure, they have their titles, but they never really talked about that stuff with us. My Da once said that he stopped being a commander when we were born. He was just a father, a husband. And my mother…”

She scoffed a bit, sighing as she looked away from him and focused on a spot outside, through the dingy window of the tavern, “She said a lady never fought, and she became a Lady when she married my father. She scolded me for what felt like forever for fighting, for being so un-ladylike. I’d gotten my fingers smacked so many times for bringing my bow into the castle, that sometimes it still feels as though she’d just smacked them.”

Regret knotted itself up tight in her stomach, a ball forming in her throat, “She tried her best to mold me into someone to be proud of. But, I guess I never got there.”

Cullen’s face crumpled at the defeated look on her face. It hurt him to see such a strong person, his friend, his comrade, so downtrodden over someone who was supposed to love her unconditionally. “I’m sure she had her reasons…” He paused, watching her shrug and rub idly at the backs of her fingers, “That doesn’t mean you need to live in the shadow of what she thought of you. You _are_ someone to be proud of, just look at all of your men! They’re proud to serve under you, proud to follow you into battle. Sure, you’re headstrong as any Fereldan, but you’ve got a big heart and you care about all of them, and what happens to them.”

It’s why they rallied behind her at the funeral, ready to set their hounds on him. He had hurt their commander, he should be hurt in return. They were a pack, and she was their leader, their teacher. Their Alpha.

“And I am proud of you,” he concluded, looking her in the face, a light hand on hers, “You proved me wrong. You do belong here, you are capable and you are definitely someone to look up to. She may have been a Sea Wolf, but you are in a league of your own.”


	13. Dawn Is A Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Empty journals hold the promises of a million lifetimes. Dawn fosters those promises into existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm so sorry that I basically abandoned this story.
> 
> So, I'm taking this as my NaNoWriMo this year again.
> 
> This chap is short, mainly because I wanted to finish it before I went to bed. It's also really Bri centric.

Spring was breaking over Skyhold, the last drifts of snow accumulated on the highest precipices of the Keep draining away under the warming sunlight. Morale was high with the ability to do more than huddle by the hearth, brushing off the frigid winters that laid heavy over the Frostbacks.

Within the kennels, it was nothing but snoring dogs and snoring men, those who had deemed their quarters too cold taking up residence on the hall floors next to the dogs. Bri was stretched out in a hammock strung up near the hearth, fingers tracing over the embossed spine of the journal that has sat empty for what felt like seasons now. A gift from a friend, the pages flat and crisp like the day they were bound. Her family’s livery pressed into the cover by worn tools used by practiced hands. She’d left it tucked on her bedside table, a promise that things are not as bad as they once were.

But that didn’t mean she did not remember, for her dreams made sure she’d never forget. Flashes of howling and smoke, of bared teeth and a sword buried wet in the sand, ruby red clinging to its blade.

It’s why she was awake now, the sky just beginning to turn from its inky black of night to the palest traces of blue on the horizon. It would be a few hours more until the sky turned its familiar blue, longer still until the sun breached over the walls of the Keep.

However, there would be no going back to sleep tonight. Seeing as such, she slid out of her hanging bed, stepping into her boots and going to her small en-suite office. She shut the door with a soft click, changing into a simple, thick shirt and trousers, lacing her boots up proper and sliding her heavy cloak over her shoulders and fastening the clasp.  

Brienne left the kennels quietly, closing the outer door silently as to not wake the dogs or her men. She made her way to the top of the ramparts, sitting between the crenels of the wall and leaning against the wall next to her.

It was that time of day where time doesn’t mean much, where the world still slumbers. Everything is muted and soft, and peace lays over everything.

She still has her journal in hand, a small few sticks of charcoal tucked inside of the cover. She drew one out with careful fingers, sketching idly on the front page. She let her mind wander, the gray lines on the page slowly taking shape as her fingers worked automatically. It was a curled up dog, sleeping beneath a tree.

Bri gave a heaving sigh, shutting the book and pressing her forehead to the cover. She came here to get away from her dreams, not recreate them in a physical form.

Other dreams plagued her as well, though the matter they showed her was not the sort to make her cry. No, they made her feel so many other things that it felt like a tangled knot of rope in her chest when she woke up.

Being pinned to the dirt, strong hands on her hips. A warm mouth against her cheek, her neck, her mouth. A large, warm body holding hers. A man that smelled like leather and steel and parchment, fingers rough from years of swordsmanship, a heart scared of glowing blue things. Light hazel eyes full of remorse, full of sadness and unspoken apologies.

A head of blonde curls kept beneath the helm of a lion, intimidating with its sharp teeth and ruby eyes.

 

Her fingers curled around the charcoal, turning the page and sketching that infuriating man, dressed in his ridiculous lion helmet, hands resting on the pommel of his sword as he looked over a smoking battlefield. Even in the newborn light of dawn, he looked as he really was: Confident. Powerful. Commanding. Everything a Commander should be.

“You’re up early.”

Bri jumped a bit, jarred out of her staring at the page of her journal. She shut it after placing the charcoal back in its place and wiping her fingers on her cloak. “I could say the same thing about you.”


	14. Dawn is a Question, a Suggestion of Day.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the Keep, and into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little short one, but I'm busy with school at the moment so I'm doing my best :3c

Cullen had gotten used to rising before dawn, but this was just ridiculous. The birds were not even chirping this early. He trudged out onto the ramparts after he’d woken up far too early for his liking. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawning as he wrapped his cloak even closer to himself.

He hadn’t expected to see anyone up this early, but there was a bundle of black fur curled up snugly between the teeth of the battlements, their back to him. He knew who it was at first sight, and he chose not to approach just yet. Merely observing the small movement of hands holding a journal, small stick in hand dancing over the pages.

After a few quiet moments, he approached the bundle of fur. “You’re up early.” A slight smile graced his mouth, watching the other jump and squint at him before sighing and shutting her book, charcoal smudged fingers rubbing against the dark cloak she was bundled in.

“I could say the same thing about you.” Brienne unfolded herself from her perch, sliding to stand on the battlement with a yawn and stretch of her back.

“Well, it was not by choice, I assure you.” He approached slowly, looking out over the Frostbacks, still covered in the fog from the damp night. “... How are you?”

It seemed like a lifetime since they’d last spoken, each being extremely busy with their own forces and unable to keep up the weekly matches in the ring. Things were getting tense, with reports coming in from all over of more and more rifts not closing properly or re-opening. The forces were being stretched thinner and thinner each passing day. You could see the stress barely concealed in both of their faces, something that as of now was not fading but only continuing to grow worse.

Brienne glanced up at him, offering a half-hearted shrug. “We’re stretched thin, as I know very well your own men are. It’s… Stressful, to say the very least.”

Cullen gave an agreeing nod, running a hand through his hair as he blew out a sigh, “Yes, unfortunately, this is the way war tends to be.” He paused for a moment, watching Bri as she looked out over the battlements, elbows leaning on where she had just been sitting, legs stretching out behind her as she just took in the beauty of the morning.

He leaned beside her, a soft smile gracing his lips. He stood there just watching the chilly breeze catch the stray tendrils of her hair, shifting them this way and that.

It was in the quiet moments that the things one often repressed deep inside themselves came to the surface. That inexplicable desire to get closer to her overwhelmed Cullen. It wasn’t in a lustful sense, just in one that sought her companionship, craved it more than he liked to admit to himself. She was admirable, so strong and intelligent. She’d decimated him in chess without cheating, her laugh one of surprise, a tinkling little sound that was so foreign to him he almost mistook it for wind chimes in the garden.

That laugh compared to her arm wrestling with Bull in the tavern, knocking back ales like she was drinking water or court wine was a world apart. Laugh as loud as could be, face flushed with the warmth of the atmosphere. She never noticed Cullen as he sat at the bar nursing his drink and just watching her with an expression of awe.

She had a duality to herself; her Commander side where she was rough and tumble, all bloody knuckles and noses and lips. Loud voices and confidence etched in her form. She could very well hold her own against any man who challenged her. She knew her own strengths and taking out men who try and treat her like a fragile glass figurine was her best attribute.

And then there was this side of her. Pensive, quiet. Appreciative of her surroundings with the eyes of a hunter and an archer. Taking note of the rustle in an underbrush and a leaf falling from a tree out of the corner of her eye. The one who had a good sense for people not unlike the dogs she loved so much and lived and breathed for. The one that knows how to dance and can read nobles despite the masks. The one playing up the noble card to get information from said nobles, twirling her hair and looking all doe-eyed and innocent. She was the one pranking the Inquisition with Sera, helping Dorian with his studies if he required a certain ingredient. She laughed with Vivienne, finding a confidant in the Mage. She took tea with Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra, training in the yard with the latter as well. Hell, she even did woodwork with Blackwall and taught him about the dogs if he came by the kennels and let Cole play with the puppies because they liked his boot laces. She traded stories with Varric over wine in the Great Hall, listening intently over her glass as he retold the story of the Champion to her, interjecting with events occurring at the same time in Ferelden while Hawke was off in Kirkwall doing as he did. She was personable and made sure to be kind to everyone who did not give her a reason to be otherwise. The one that can make things, often looking too delicate to be used as they were supposed to but they would prove you wrong in a heartbeat had you doubted them.

Just like Bri herself.

And by the Maker was he in far too deep.

He rubbed a hand over his face, taking a steadying breath at the weight of his thoughts pressing on his heart.

“Are you busy today, Bri?” He asked quietly, looking at her with a hopeful expression. Maybe if they got away from Skyhold for a bit, maybe he could tell her how he felt. He’d pray that she wouldn’t flat out kill him on sight. Cullen didn’t think she would, but he was never sure of how she felt about him. “I, uh, I know a place to get away from Skyhold for a bit. Keep us from going mad.”

The woman looked at him, tilting her head as her brows knitted together. Cullen quickly added, “If you’d like to accompany me. I just,” He rubbed the back of his neck, a very prominent nervous habit of his. “I thought you’d like to go and not be confined to the keep?”

Brienne gazed at him for the length of two heartbeats, mind mulling over the suggestion before a gentle, fragile smile grows on her face. One that holds hope.

“Sure, yeah.” She tucks her journal into the pocket of her cloak, and Cullen’s heart gives a little leap in his chest. She actually had said yes.

“Fantastic!” He beamed at her, and the woman softly chuckled, arching a brow at him in amusement. Cullen cleared his throat, a light flush dusting across his cheeks. “I, uh, yes. I’ll prepare the horses.”

“You do that, Cullen,” Bri smiles, turning and heading back down the ramparts. “I’ll be around.”


	15. Let's Go Camping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off to Honnleath they go.

It took a few, long hours to get from Skyhold out to their destination, the ride punctuated by the squeaking of the leather saddles, the rustling of the newly forming leaves, and dotted with commentary and observations from Bri about trees and plants as they passed. Cullen took mental notes on what she’d say, whether the plants had special properties or made tea or could help a headache.

They were headed near Honnleath, a little town Bri only knew by name and a map dot she’d learned as a girl. To Cullen, however, it was home. A little village with chickens scattering the dusty roads, the laughter of children a vibrant, pleasant and ever present sound.

“So,” Bri said quietly as they took the road that did not enter the lively, little village, her eyes still tracing over the outlines of the small houses as they disappeared behind them. “That is where you grew up.” It was posed like a statement, asking for clarification without raising a question.

“Yes, it is,” Cullen replied, glancing once at the woman before focusing his attention back on the path before them, twisting the end of the reigns between nervous fingers. “I haven’t been home since…” He took in a slow breath, blowing it from between his lips, “I was thirteen when the knight-captain took me for training.”

“Isn’t that, I dunno, a little young?” Bri said, pursing her lips. She’d heard horrors about him from her elder sister, who had encountered him during the Blight. How he’d gotten to this point, to garner such respect and to not have people afraid of him… There was part of the story that she was missing. “I couldn’t fully apprentice with the kennelmaster until I was sixteen.”

“Most children destined for Templar service did so much earlier than I did.” He replied, glancing at Brienne with a slightly amused expression. “You couldn’t apprentice, but you could run headlong into a civil war.”

“That’s…” She rolled her eyes, glancing towards Lake Calenhad, faintly hearing the water brushing the shore. “Well, I didn’t have anyone telling me no at that point.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, just the soft thud of hooves on dirt breaking it.

“I had not… I’m sorry.” Cullen said, voice quiet and apologetic. “I lost my parents during the Blight as well. If that’s any consolation.”

The woman made a noise in the back of her throat, shaking her head. “It’s fine, you don’t have to treat me like a glass spindle. It’s been ten years. I think I can handle them being mentioned.”

Of course, she’d chastise him over an apology. It’s not like it wasn’t appreciated, but she often did not know how to accept those sorts of things, finding it easier just to brush them off with it being no big deal rather than be awkward in accepting it.

Cullen merely nodded, returning his attention to the path as it wound through the countryside.

“I am sorry about your parents, though,” She added after a moment. “No one is prepared for that, not ever.”

A half smile curled on his lips, sitting up a bit more in the saddle. “Thank you. I was in Greenfell when I got word from my sister. It… I was not in a good place at the time, and I probably took the news harder than most would have.”

“My sister met you when you were in the circle tower,” She said quietly, and she watched Cullen go rigid at the mere mention of that place. “She’s told me what happened there.”

His mouth drew into a taught line, stopping his horse along the lakeshore. “I’m sure you share her sentiments, then.”

“No, not at all,” Brienne replied, pausing her own mare alongside his. “I just. You were scared and hurt and hurting. I don’t fault you for being paranoid. Shit, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

He looked taken aback by her words, muttering, “I’m not even that forgiving of myself.”

“Well, you should be.” Bri swung down from her saddle, stretching her legs. “No one is perfect, and we can’t be expected to always make the right choices when we are under duress. I look at it this way.” She walked over, rubbing his horse’s neck and looking up at Cullen. “We make the best decisions we can with the information we have available to us at the time.”

He wanted to kiss her so bad right now. He shook his head, laughing incredulously and giving her the sweetest of smiles. “That’s… A good way to think about things. No wonder everyone likes you so much.”

Cullen climbed down from his saddle, unpacking the tents from the horses and beginning to set them up a few feet back from the water’s edge. Brienne watched him for a moment, grabbing the horses’ reins and walking them over. She grabbed the food pack down from her mare’s back, working to separate the food as to not attract bears to their small camp.

  
It took a little while to get everything settled, Cullen collecting firewood while Bri dug out a place for a fire, making sure to not catch the grass on fire. They had everything settled by midday, a stack of firewood sitting between their tents, the fire burning in between their tents and the lake.

They were both lounging at the water’s edge, Bri’s pants rolled up past her knees and her boots and socks discarded to the side. She let her feet rest in the water, watching the small waves lap the shore. It was peaceful here, the only sounds being the brush of water over sand and skin, the rustling of the wind through leaves, and the grazing of the horses nearby. She shut her eyes, just soaking in the warmth of the sun and the cool water. She laid back in the grass, stretching her arms out to her sides with a contented sigh escaping her lips.

Cullen was sitting beside Bri, his posture semi-relaxed though their proximity was driving his nerves up just a tad. He just watched her, studying her relaxed state as if he’d never seen her like this before.

Well in truth, he wasn’t sure if he ever really had. She seemed to be so on guard most of the time, even if that guard was cleverly hidden behind easy smiles and laughter. Bri just looked so at home here, even if she was anything but close to home.

He didn’t even know really where she called home. Sure, he knew she grew up on the coast in a big fancy castle. But did she still think of that as home?

“Something on your mind?” The soft voice drew the Commander from his wandering thoughts, blinking away the cloud of questions to meet the cerulean eyes watching him right back.

“I… Where do you consider to be home now?” He breached the question slowly as if he was turning the words over in his mouth before letting them be heard.

“Well,” Bri said, turning on her side and propping herself up on one elbow, plucking idly at the grass. “You know I grew up in the North near the ocean, in a castle. That was home for, well, forever. It’s where my brother lives now, with his family.” She smiled for a moment, “Teryn Fergus Cousland. He has a new baby girl, now.”  
  
“But, I’ve had a hard time going certain places there, especially where my parents died.” She looked at the water for a moment before back to him, twisting the blades of grass together. “I lived with my sister in Denerim for a time, after she was married and had her coronation. That’s more like home to me than anywhere, the royal castle. But I really… don’t have a place to definitively call home. Home is where my men are, where my dogs are. Be that a nice big keep, or a shitty little camp in between jobs. A far cry from the nice safe places I’ve lived before.”

Cullen nodded slowly, storing those little tidbits of information away. “I can understand. I’ve lived in chantries and towers most of my life, except for when I was a boy. Since I’ve been with the Templars, a home has always been with my brothers and sisters. Now that I’m just a Commander instead of a Knight-Commander, home is with our forces. It’s not much different, though my office being so far away from the barracks has created a bit of a dissonance between me and my men.”

Bri’s lips curled into a smile, laughing gently. “Sounds like you need to spend more time in the dirt with your boys, Cullen. Drill with them and not just make them do drills.”

He chuckled gently, laying back in the grass and staring up at the clouds. “Much easier said than done. As I’m sure you know, being an advisor has its perks and downfalls.”

“Right, being constantly on call isn't exactly conducive to drilling. You know, I have a hunch that our dear Inquisitor isn’t exactly fond of me.” Bri made a sound that half sounded like an annoyed laugh, looking over at him.

“So I’ve heard,” the man replied with a low chuckle, turning his head to look at her.

“Probably has something to do with me going off on her after she told you to keep taking lyrium,” Bri said quietly, shrugging. “She doesn’t know what happens.”

He stared at her, sitting up and looking her in the face. “You did that?” Cullen was honestly shocked. At that point, they weren’t exactly friends. And yet, she’d stood up for him, made sure he was okay and was healing. She looked out for him.

“Well, of course. Why wouldn’t I?” She said it as if it was the simplest thing in the world, to put herself on the line to make sure Cullen was healthy and safe. She’d stood up to and directly disobeyed an order from the head of the Inquisition, and hadn’t batted an eye doing so. “She didn’t know or care what she was asking of you. She saw you as a tool, like a hammer to smash nails with. She only wanted you efficient, not happy. And that’s not right.”

His expression softened, heart hammering in his chest. She said those words with such a tenderness, earnestness lacing each syllable, that Cullen was almost unable to formulate any words in response.

“I… I never did thank you,” he said softly, laying on his side facing Bri. “For staying with me. For taking care of me.”

She mirrored his position, resting her head on her arm. “You don’t have to. I wasn’t going to let you suffer alone.”

Cullen smiled, hesitantly reaching across the short distance and brushing a stray lock of hair off of her forehead, tucking it behind her ear. She didn’t move, just watching his hand and then his face with wide eyes.

She shifted away, sitting up and resting her arms on her knees that were now propped up, her feet residing on the grass in front of her instead of down in the water, eyes unfocused as she gazed out over the water.

He bolted upright quickly, mind scrambling. He’d gone too far, and here Cullen thought things were going so well. “I’m sorry, that was--.”

“What? Cullen, no,” Brienne interrupted, looking at him with an unreadable expression, her face half buried in her arms. “I appreciate the gesture. I really do. You’re so sweet, and such a kind man, and thoughtful. This is not your fault. I’m…” She barked a sharp laugh, jaw visibly clenching and unclenching. “Well, out of all the people you could want to spend time with, you choose a loud and bossy bitch of a doglord who literally drove away every single suitor her father presented her with because she’d sic her hound on them of they got too near her. I’m not worth it.”

Cullen was stunned into silence, mouth hanging open. “Do you even hear yourself?” He asked, entire body reading of shock. “Yes, you can be quite loud and brash and stubborn. But you’re smart and confident, you’re good with people and you’re good with your dogs. You never half-ass anything ever and you’re always the first to want to lend a hand.”

He moved closer to her, cupping her face in his hands to get her to look at him. She was tense, hands slightly shaking while she dug her fingers into her kneecaps.

“You know why they were driven off?” He said, voice dropping in volume to be just above a whisper, amber eyes searching her blue ones. “Because you deserve better than them. They would call you too much this or too little that. You’re so, _so_ incredibly strong, and they would not have been able to compete with you. They’d try and belittle you to make themselves feel better but Maker above you are so much more than you think you are and I adore you for it. I adore you. I look up to you. You are a brilliant leader and tactician and you just…” He sucked in a breath, her cheeks red and warm against his palms. “Maker, I’m _so_ lucky to know you. To get to work with you. To know you. To be your friend. To… To be here with you, and get to have you all to myself for even just a little while.” He trailed off at the end, voice wavering ever so slightly.

Her cheeks were wet, little tears clinging to her lashes as she listened to him speak, voice so full of awe and wonder and honesty that it just was far too much for her to handle. She sniffled, looking up at him with a nervous expression painted on her face, small hands coming to rest over his much larger ones. She brushed his hands away, diving in and hugging him around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder.

Cullen blinked, wrapping his arms snugly around her middle and shushing her softly, leaning his cheek against her hair. “I’m here, it’s all right,” he murmured against her head, rubbing her back and trying to soothe her the best he could. She fit in his arms, her body small yet firm with muscle and very warm against his. “I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about something like this.”

Bri pulled back, face ablaze with embarrassment as she worried her lip between her teeth. “You promise?” It was a soft question, one he would have missed if not within such close proximity. Cullen gave her a soft smile, stroking her cheek with feather light brushes of his fingers.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all it's finally happening! B)


	16. The Arbor Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing good ever lasts.

As it happens, nothing good ever lasts very long in Thedas these days. The commanders received an urgent missive via raven from none other than their spymaster, calling them back to Skyhold mere hours after they had set up camp. Of course, they were a bit disgruntled, having just gotten there and had only just begun to form a tentative bond that was crafted of actual emotion rather than necessity. And most of their short time had been them laying in the grass together, hands clasped and Bri’s head on Cullen’s broad chest.

Their next location of battle: The Arbor Wilds. Bri had never been, but she’d read about it in stories. Massive, sprawling stands made up of ancient trees that scraped the sky, the understory teeming with greenery and life, little animals of all sorts in every valley and stream. It seemed like a paradise in the books, and she was more than excited to go, while her second-in-command just rolled her eyes and packed the dogs.  
  
The trip was quite long, bordering on three months’ worth of travel from Skyhold. It was decent travel, still being early spring when the nights were cool and the days were warm enough not to need to be bundled up in cloaks. And being with someone who her heart was fond of made it all the more tolerable.  
The only thing she really had to complain about was the Maker awful humidity, making her skin damp as if she’d just gotten out of the bath, and her clothes never felt truly dry. Though, the dogs didn’t seem to mind it too much besides the continual sound of panting at night when the winds would calm and the air grew still.

Cullen was no better off in all of that heavy plate armor, and Bri often found him in just his trousers and boots while he looked over maps and sent letters, hair mussed from his continual pushing a hand through it. 

“Hey,” Brienne greeted as she stepped into the tent, a loose tunic on her shoulders and her boots long traded out for sandals. She carried a water skin, filled with cold spring water, pressing it into Cullen’s hands as he stood to greet her, tearing his attention from the map.

“Hello-- Oh, that’s lovely,” he said, pressing his cheek to the skin before taking a slow drink from it. Bri just chuckled, taking his spot at the map table, hands braced on the edge,

“So, what are we looking at in terms of forces?” She asked, casting a glance over her shoulder at the man.

“According to the scouts, there're red templars galore,” Cullen replied, re-corking the water skin and setting it aside before lifting a report from the stack and handing it to her. “Along with a few ranks of possessed Wardens. Not to mention the Venatori that are still lurking about.” He leaned against the table, sighing and gazing over all of the various markers on the map. “And that’s not counting whatever they’re going to conjure.”

“Maker’s balls,” Bri groaned, running a hand through her ponytail before flipping through the reports and giving them each a quick skim. “What are you thinking in terms of attack?”

“We’ll, of course, send the archers up at vantage points along the canyons from here to the Temple,” Cullen began, leaning close to her and sliding a finger along the ridge marked out on the map, little blue markets dotted along it. “We’ll have to split the men, have some of the soldiers mixed in with your men and just overwhelm the templars, make them lose focus. Your second-in-command. She’s a mage, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Bri stood up, looking up at Cullen with a single brow lifted.

“Can she lead?” He pressed, picking up a quill and a scrap of vellum.

“Of course she can. What are you going on about?”

“How would she like to lead some men against any Venatori that would appear out of the forest?”

“I think you’d need to ask her yourself, Cullen,” Bri remarked with a slight smile. “She’d do anything I’d ask of her, but if this is your request, I do not wish to sway her judgment.”

He groaned, resting his head on her shoulder pathetically. “Honestly, she scares me.”

Brienne just laughed, patting his back. “There, there. Look, if I don’t scare you, she shouldn’t either.”

“You scare me too! I just…” He peered at her, smiling. “I’ve gotten used to being scared by you, and I like it.” And quite frankly, now that the words had left his mouth, Cullen wished to shove his boot between his teeth.

Gladly, Bri merely laughed and patted his cheek. An affectionate action, one that she’d rarely done when other were around. But when it was just them, each little touch was like a precious gift to be treasured and kept close to one’s heart.

Maker knows that wars are unpredictable, and they really had no reassurance that they were going to survive the next battle. They’d take the tiny bursts of warmth in their chests wherever and whenever they could get them.

“You’re adorable,” she teased as she turned her attention back to the map spread out before them.

* * *

 

And sooner than anyone would like, the morning of the battle was upon them. The camp was full of a quiet tension just palpable under the skin. Bri was over with her second-in-command, Tilani, setting up the order and location for all of their triads as well as which would go with her. Every once in a while, Bri would catch a glimpse of Cullen all dressed up in his lion helm and looking fierce as always, drawing a soft little smile to her face.

“You know,” the young elven woman began with a smile, ribbing her Commander a bit. “Everyone can see the emotions between you two plain as day.”

Bri just scoffed, cheeks stinging a pink as she coated the heads of her arrows in a thin, pearlescent poison. “Sure, and I’m the Empress of Orlais.”

“I’m serious!” Til said with a laugh, bumping Bri with her shoulder. “Not like you could hide that from me, after all. I’ve known you for too long.”

“I just,” the blonde sighed gently, rolling the shaft of the arrow between her fingers, the eagle’s feather fletching not budging one bit. “I’m scared if I’m honest. War never promises a safe return.”

Til grabbed her shoulder, giving her friend a gentle, reassuring smile. “Then don’t wait. If tomorrow isn't promised, we only have today. Tell him, before it’s too late.”

Bri stared at the redhead for a moment, nodding as nerves squeezed at her stomach. “You think I should?”

“I just said that. Yes, tell him!”

She stood up, putting her arrows back in the quiver and her bow on her back. “Make sure everyone is where they should be. We do not have room for error.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Bri sucked in a breath, making her way across the camp with her two dogs in tow, still having not found a replacement lead dog for Cassius. The girls stuck close to her, their leads tethered to her hips, one on each side.

“Bri,” Cullen greeted without looking up from the report in his hands. “Thing’s don’t look good, and we need to--”

“Cullen, wait--” she said, but didn’t have time to finish the sentence. There was a blast of fire nearby, and the screams of men now burning alive shook her to her very core.

The camp was submerged in chaos in no time flat, Venatori forces edging themselves ever closer while Tilly and the archers picked them off one by one, the snarling of dogs and mashing of jaws intermingling with the metallic twang of swords and the wet crunch of bone when those blades connected with vulnerable flesh.

Brienne shot into a sprint, releasing the dogs from their leads and drawing her arrows, dipping the tips into a knocked-over brazier, the poison burning a red-hot flame as she shot them into the throng of enemy mages.

Cullen ran after her, drawing his sword and ramming right into the fray, sword finding wet, hot purchase in the bellies of the mages, the scent of burnt flesh from the men back at camp clinging to his armor like a sickly perfume. He still knew how to fight like a templar, dispelling the barriers with a thought.

He didn’t need lyrium for it.

All too soon, his heart dropped at a very shrill scream reached his ears, whirling around and running in the direction of it, knowing he was leaving his back open but throwing caution to the wind.

Bri had found herself cornered by a red templar, the jagged spikes of red lyrium burning out of his skin and making her flesh crawl just by being in close proximity. Before she could get an arrow fired off, the thing had smacked her face into the stone and crushed her leg beneath its massive arm, the red crystals crushing the bones like twigs, drawing out a pained cry from her bloodied lips.

It’s twisted face grew close to hers, red glowing eyes boring into her ice blue ones. They often looked like the purest lyrium, and she could almost feel the creature’s desire to corrupt that perfect blue. Before she could protest, the beast was slammed into her, the sharp red spikes slicing through her armor like wet paper, gouging her flesh. But she’d heard the ring of a sword, felt the tingle of a dispelling motion wash over her skin.

 

It was a templar.

_Cullen._

And that was her last thought before it all went dark.


	17. Unfit for Command

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a deserter during wartime usually ends with a dishonorable discharge. Cullen is willing to risk it. Bri is furious about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic now has an 8tracks playlist! I'm gonna try and update it with each chapter, so each has one song. Except 9 has two.
> 
> http://8tracks.com/uncaged_wardens/to-the-rhythm-of-the-war-drums

Til knew that scream anywhere, hearkening far back in her memory to the Blight when she and the owner of the shriek were tied together by circumstance, friendship bound stronger with blood and violence where they could trust no one really but one another. She used to hear it in her dreams, but her Commander has not gotten injured enough to make a sound like that in a very, very long time. The elven woman was poised at the head of her force, heart dropping to somewhere about her toes when that shrill, pained cry hit her ears, the tips of which beginning to twitch.

“ _ Fenedhis _ !” Tilani cursed sharply, turning on her heel and scanning the field they had just climbed up from. She was trying to find that bright head of hair she knew her Commander had. If anything set her apart, it was that hair. And the two massive war hounds strapped to her. 

“Wha’sit, Til?” One of her men asked, frowning and stopping behind her.

“It’s our Commander. You, take the lead. I’ll return.” With that, she put her staff on her back and made her way from the foothills into the throng of battle, aiming for the cliff a bit outside of the edge of the battlegrounds.

She was guessing there was an ambush, and her chest squeezed painfully as she removed her staff from her back and readied a barrier on the tips of her fingers.

 

Cullen had been trained in many things. How to field-dress wounds, how to dispel demons and malevolent spells. He knew how to fight, he knew how to command. He knew how to act and move in a war zone.

What he didn’t know, however, was to deal with a level of fear for someone else and still keep a clear head. Here he was, leaving the battle, a commander abandoning his troops and praying to the Maker that they could carry them out on their own, and praying that his Lieutenant could hold the position.

It was all because of her, this beautifully frustrating woman who was now laying prone, slack against a rock face, the body of a monstrous red templar behemoth not far from them. The monster was disintegrating with nasty crunches and shatterings of crystal, the song and glow of which now distorted and wrong.  He had yanked the behemoth’s corpse off of its victim, heart-wrenching in his chest at the limp, little human body left behind.  

If Cullen knew one thing, it was that they needed to get out of here. They were too vulnerable, back against a straight vertical shear of rock. And one of them was unconscious, blood dribbling from a busted lip and what could be a broken nose. Not to mention the leg, awkward and unnaturally angled.

“Commander!” A pair of voices yelled from the path, and he turned his head sharply to see both second-in-commands standing there with panic-stricken expressions. Tilani, Bri’s fiery-headed Lieutenant, and his own. 

Til was the first to reach them, forest green eyes wide and full of barely concealed panic. She crouched beside Cullen, casting a temporary barrier around the three of them. She swallowed, hesitantly reaching and checking Bri’s pulse, which to her relief thumped hard and strong under her fingers. “Gods, what happened?!” She snapped, wheeling on the other Commander, eyes narrowed.

“Well, I didn’t do it!” He snapped back, voice tight. Honestly, Til thought he looked about to cry. 

“You’re in no state to command.” Tilani shifted over, allowing Cullen’s own lieutenant within the barrier. One look from him to her commanding officer confirmed it.

“Sorry, Commander,” His lieutenant said, shaking her helm-covered head. “I can lead us, you need to get yourself under control.”

“I am in control!” Cullen snapped back, rising to his feet in a show of dominance and power, and Tilani stepped directly in front of him, jabbing a finger at his chest and then to Bri who was lying limp against the wall of stone. Just like her commander, she was without fear of the larger man.

Tilani’s voice was quiet, yet stern.  “The battlefield is no place for emotions, but apparently you can’t handle it. People are injured in wars all the time. Brienne knows this. She wouldn’t want you fawning over her when there’s a bigger problem.” His lieutenant nodded in agreement before rushing back to the battle, seeing as the situation was now in her capable hands.

Once the other was gone, she grabbed his arms, forcing him to tear his gaze from the prone woman to the elf. Til’s voice was tense and shaky, worry creeping into her as well as a sizable dose of fear for her best friend and Commander. “You save her, you hear me? I don’t care if you have to hike back to Skyhold to keep her safe. You do it, or I’ll kill you like you killed her dog.” 

She gave him a minute shove, glaring at him before dashing back to battle.

He crouched down, lifting her small, delicate form into his arms like she was a bride and holding her securely against the plate armor of his chest. He glanced around, the smoldering piles of mage and red templar bodies casting a choking, black smoke into the air as the forced marched onward, leaving a mostly clear path for Cullen to run. He’d never felt fear like this before, not for someone else at least. 

It was scary and made his actions feel disjointed and erratic. His mind was mostly filled with static, mouth babbling reassuring nonsense to ears that couldn’t hear him. He caught sight of the camp through the billowing tendrils of smoke, frowning as he began trekking in the opposite direction of the battle. 

If anything were to happen to her while in his care, he’d never forgive himself. She’d gotten herself so tangled in his heartstrings that one wrong move would tear his heart out completely.

And out of everything, that had to be the scariest part. Not even the death by tiny angry elf mage firing squad scared him that much.

Maybe he really was unfit to command.

 

The tents would be too noticeable with the insignia of the Inquisition flying proudly on them, too big of a target. He pursed his lips, breathing heavily from the plate armor plus the exertion of carrying another person, albeit a small one. He picked his way through the underbrush, careful not to jostle Bri too much. The last thing he needed to do was exacerbate her injuries.

He felt like he was walking forever away from the cacophony that was the battlefield, the adrenaline still pumping furiously through his body, the high of battle crawling under his skin. The thick forests gave way to a clearing dominated by massive trees, the giants having moved on for the time being and allowing their safe passage to the other side, where Cullen thought they would be safe enough. He slowed when the terrain grew steep as it descended into a gully, a small quiet stream running through the bottom.

Cullen stepped into the cold water and let it soak his boots, seeing as not many traps could be laid in water. Thankfully, up the way a bit was a shallow cave, one that he could see the back of that ensured nothing would be lurking there for them. He hefted himself up the small bank, panting roughly and sinking down against the wall of the alcove and settling Bri in his lap for the moment to catch his breath, her head lolling to rest on his furry pauldron.

He could still hear the war cries and roars of magic from far off, and he prayed to the Maker that they would not retreat this far back.

Cullen tore his gloves off, wiping his sweaty face and taking mental stock of their injuries. He had a few scrapes and small burns, but nothing terribly pressing. 

He crouched on the floor of the cave, holding Bri with one arm as he unclasped his cloak and bundled it into a makeshift pillow. He laid her down, tossing his helm aside. He quickly drew the knife from his belt, cutting the thin leather of her leggings at the knee of her broken leg away to reveal the more pressing of injuries.

The leg would need a healer. The form of it looked very strange, angled bones jutting up beneath the skin. At least they hadn’t pierced her flesh. He’d seen gruesome things in his time, but never those sorts of wounds close up.

He sucked in a breath, knowing he couldn’t do any sort of straightening of the shattered bones, only knowing to secure them so they would not cause more damage. Cullen sat back on his feet, splinting her leg with the sheath of his sword and a few of her arrows all bundled together with the leads that had been tied to her armor.

Her dogs would be looking for her soon, and he hoped they’d track them back here.

The splinting made Brienne scream, cerulean eyes popping open ad she prepared to throw punches before she realized who it was. 

“Bri!” Cullen gasped, catching the hand that was balled in a fist mere inches from his face, fingers closing around the entirety of her hand. “I, Andraste’s grace, I was so worried…”

It took a minute for the woman to focus, the pain making everything blurry and unfocused. “Cullen?” she muttered, squinting and looking around slightly, only to groan in pain. “My head…”

“You got smacked into a stone wall by a behemoth, just stay still,” he murmured carefully, the hand caught in his relaxing out of the fist. “Your leg is pretty bad, but we should be safe here.”

She stared at the ceiling of the alcove for a moment before she kicked at him with her uninjured leg. “And you just left your post?! You left all of our men without a Commander?!” Bri was shrieking, trying to sit up and shove Cullen back towards the battle. That only succeeded in causing her more pain, tears springing to her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m not leaving you here alone!” He responded in a booming shout, his hands grabbing her shoulders and forcing her back down. “You almost got yourself killed!”

“A broken leg and a head injury is not a death sentence!” Bri retorted, gritting her teeth. “They need you.”

“No, you need me,” he insisted, grasping her face in his hand, thumb rubbing her cheek. 

“You think I haven’t been through worse?” She muttered angrily, eyes boring into his. “Cullen, this is not the time to get overly-emotional.”

He took a deep breath, ducking his head and holding her face in his trembling hands oh-so-gently. “I can’t lose you. Not to those monsters.”

Her chest hurt with the weight of the emotion in his words, conceding but still quite angry with him. “You know they’re going to call you a deserter.”

“I’m aware.”

“You do know what happens to deserters, right?”

“I’m also aware of that.”

“And… You don’t care?”

He sighed, wiping some of the blood off of her chin with his fingers. “I’ve cared about many things in my life. The Order. The chantry. My family. My men. The Inquisition as a whole. I’d see them burn before I didn’t care what happens to you.”

“That’s awfully sweet,” Bri said gently, “But they could very well call for your removal as Commander. If the Inquisitor wants to be a real bitch about this. I honestly doubt Leliana and Josie would let it happen. But it's a possibility. You could also lose the respect of your men for choosing to help me over help them win, over leading them to victory.”

“But I get the trust back of yours,” he murmured softly, looking her in her eyes.

And that, really, she couldn’t argue against.


	18. Crimes Against the Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trial is set. Things get awkward. Feelings get hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to remind everyone that there is an 8tracks playlist that accompanies this nano!
> 
> http://8tracks.com/uncaged_wardens/to-the-rhythm-of-the-war-drums

Of course, there was an investigation. His lack of time spent in the barracks and on the training grounds, his inattentiveness during war councils. His disregard for direct commands. It really did not look good. 

Here Cullen now stood, front and center in the throne room, with the pressing weight of the Inquisitor’s gaze on him, critical and cutting. 

She had not forgotten the words exchanged between the doglord and herself over the topic of the commander of the forces. She’d harbored a slow-burning ember of anger towards that woman. While she could not fault the Cousland for being injured, she could punish the man that cared for her and she was more than happy to do so without a shred of regret. People who defy the Inquisition do not get away with it unscathed.

“Commander,” she began, voice even and cold. “Deserting the forces is a punishable offense, you know this.”

“I do, Inquisitor, but--”

The elven woman held her hand up to silence him, eyes narrowed. “This... doglord woman has done nothing but hinder your performance as an officer.” The Inquisitor spat the word like poison and shocked Cullen slightly. That term was not an insult to Bri, it was a mark of her birth and her work, both of which she was proud of. It was odd to hear it used in such a venomous fashion. “She has personally threatened me and caused you to defy a direct order. I let it slide, for she seemed to know what she was talking about when it came to your health and wellbeing. But this...”

Cullen swallowed audibly, looking between Josephine, who was clutching her board with shaking fingers. She cleared her throat gently, approaching the Inquisitor upon her throne.

“Lady Lavellan, if you would just hear out our Commander…”

“I have done so over and over again, Josie.” Her face softened ever so slightly when the ambassador spoke to her. “He needs to choose. This woman or his career and position. What his emotions are worth to him.”

Josie heaved a sigh, nodding in resignation before returning to her place beside the throne. She knew better than to try and argue with the one she loved during trials.

“Commander. The Inquisition needs you to be focused and have a loyalty to our cause above all else. If you cannot do as such, I will personally remove the hindrance, or ask you to resign your position as head of forces. I will expect your lieutenant to report on your progress. We need a force united, but not in this way.” Lavellan steepled her fingers. “Should you fail in distancing yourself and remaining resolute in your task to lead, you will forfeit your place here at Skyhold.” 

“...Of course, Inquisitor. I will see to it that I remain focused in future missions.”

“Good.” And she rose from her spot, heading into the rotunda without a word, leaving Cullen with a huge weight in his stomach. He looked at Josephine, who gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he walked past into the war room.

“Commander,” Josie said, pausing in her room. Cullen stopped with a foot on the step, looking at her with a stricken expression. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I…” his voice failed him for a moment, throat tight. He shook his head, steeling his resolve. His voice grew detached and flat. “Have all reports directed to the war room. I will be working there today.”

“... Of course, Cullen.” Josephine was quiet for a moment. “I am sorry. I know you care deeply for her…”

Cullen clenched his jaw, “It is not of consequence, Lady Montiliyet. She will no longer interfere with my work. Not now, not ever again.” And that sounded like a lie, even to himself, but he had to believe it enough to keep both his station and his home.

It really killed him to do so, but war was not a safe place to love. He knew this when this all started. He never in his wildest daydreams thought such a thing would affect him this much. It embarrassed him, to be frank.

He threw himself into his work behind the doors to the war room, giving himself headaches and not stopping to eat. This was his self-imposed punishment. He had to prove himself, once again, that he was capable. That he was strong and unwavering, unaffected by the trivial emotions that swarmed his mind and bled into every fiber of his being.

 

* * *

 

Bri was largely kept out of the affairs of the Inquisition while she healed, having been moved to one of the guest rooms off of the gardens to allow for easier access and cleaner, warmer conditions to be in. It was too quiet for Bri, really. Reminded her far too much of her childhood home. Except back then she had Cassius to keep her company on the long nights where she couldn’t sleep. 

Now she was just left with her thoughts, made worse by the isolation. Til, the healers, and the maids had really been the only people to visit her. Really, that stung more than it needed to. She knew there had been a trial of sorts. It was her fault, really. She was not careful, she’d gotten herself hurt. She’d told him to go back, to leave her there and go and lead. But he’d refused, saying something stupid about her being more important. While that made her chest feel funny and was nice to hear, it was not what war wanted. War takes and it takes and gives only pain to the fallen and glory to the victors. It is no place for emotions. That injury and those feelings may very well have cost Cullen his position.

And that thought cut deeper than any sword wound.

Bri leaned against the wall overlooking the gardens, hands clasped together while her forearms rested on the top. Her leg was still in a brace, her crutches leaning next to her against the stone. She just wanted to feel the sun and warm summer winds on her skin and in her hair, and not feel stuck in her room.

She felt so lost like this, tethered to her room by an invisible chain called pain. She just wanted to visit her men, visit her dogs. Visit Cullen, if he was still here and allowed visitors. She almost laughed at that. He was the Commander, for Andraste’s sake. Could, and would, the Inquisitor really restrict her access to him?

Bri felt guilty too. She knew very well the Inquisitor held no kindness in her heart for the blonde woman. Maybe since she really couldn’t do anything to Bri, she was just taking it all out on Cullen because she could. That just made her angry. Real people fought their enemies, not tormented their friends because of it.

The warm breeze brushed tendrils of her hair out of its loose braid, drawing her attention from her internal reprimand. She tucked the strands back behind her ear, catching sight of a familiar figure sitting in the gardens, head in his hands, long gloved fingers in his hair.

A smile bloomed on her face like a rose blooming in the warmth of the sun. She tucked the crutches under her arms, making her way carefully down from the rampart and into the garden. Her arms burned, the bruises under her arms throbbing in protest, thought she resolutely ignored the pain.

She reached the bottom of the steps and had to stop, now seriously out of breath from the extra exertion of using the crutches.

“Long time no see,” Brienne remarked once she got close enough to Cullen, leaning heavily against the stone that marked her best friend’s life and death, the surface beginning to get covered in ivy tendrils and mosses. Cullen’s head shot up like and arrow flying off of a bowstring, the split-second expression one of hope and the faintest flash of a smile that was swiftly extinguished, expression becoming guarded.

“Commander Cousland. How… are you?” He began uneasily, the title feeling strange on his tongue after so long of not using it. Bri’s expression was dumbfounded, but she responded, gesturing to her leg.

“I’ve been better. What happened at your meeting with the Inquisitor?”

“I’d prefer not to speak on that with you.” 

_With you_. Now, that stung a bit. Bri blinked widely, limping over and taking the spot next to him on the bench, propping her wrapped leg up on the hand grip of one of her crutches. She looked around at the garden, a sense of serenity rolling over her skin.

“I love this time of year,” she remarked, watching some of the flowers swaying in the light breeze. “Pity I’m pretty much stuck in my room.”

“I’m sure that’s frustrating.” Cullen tried his damnedest not to be interested. In reality, he just wanted to give her a hug and dote on her like she had for him when he was fighting the demons in his head. He at least owed her that much. 

“Well, yeah. I’m not exactly one to sit around all day.” Bri said it like it was the most simple of things, leaning back on the bench and stretching with a groan. “I haven’t been outside in weeks.”

“Apologies, Commander. I need to return to my work.” Cullen stood up stiffly, “Much to do.”

“Oh…” Bri chewed on the inside of her lip, heart squeezing painfully at the coldness and indifference in his voice. “Yeah, of course. Go on, be all important.” She couldn't help the bit of malice that weaved between her words. She really couldn’t help it, she was hurting too. It wasn’t just all about him. “I’ll hobble back to my room eventually. Don’t worry about me. You have more important things to do.”

“Brienne, it's not like that.,” he muttered, turning to look at her, expression tightly restrained, jaw tight. “I was threatened with removal. Of you or me. The Inquisitor is not happy. I’m doing my best.”

Bri looked away, plucking a stray bit of string from her tights, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Shoo, lest you get in more trouble because of me.” Her voice cracked slightly at that, and Cullen nearly turned back to her, taking a deep breath and going into the keep.

The only sounds left in the garden were the soft burbling of a fountain and the chirping of birds. Bri covered her mouth with her hand, leaning forward and pressing her elbows to her knees. 

She’d sworn to herself that she’d never let a man dictate her feelings or words. She’d never be on an arm that didn’t care for her desires or her true self. But, now that she’d gotten so close to someone who she’d give up the stars to, who actively wanted to be around her and be there for her, she felt so out-of-control that it terrified her.

She felt weak and stupid, falling for some knight in shining armor who actually likes his princesses covered in dirt and blood and sweat. It was what she wanted, but Maker, she was so scared. She wasn’t herself, she wasn’t the level-headed and quick-witted commander anymore. She was compromised, her resolve to refuse love because it was frivolous and unimportant crumbling in her hands as she so tightly clung to the small slivers of affection he had given her. 

Her little hiccups had devolved into ugly, broken sobs, shoulders shaking as she curled in on herself. Andraste, he deserved much better than her. Someone who knew how to love properly, not with sharp stabbings of sarcasm and sugar-coated fear. 

Bri felt a weight on the bench next to her and gentle brushings of a hand against her back. “Now now, child. Why do you cry?”

It was Mother Giselle, in all of her maternal glory. Brienne lifted her head from her hands, cheeks stained pink and eyes rimmed red. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, giving the Mother a half-hearted shrug. “I was just thinking, Mother Giselle. I apologize if I disturbed you.”

“Why would you think on things that make you so sad?” She asked, gently undoing the braid in Bri’s hair and re-plaiting it. “It does not do well to make oneself so upset.”

“Because…” Bri shrugged, sniffling thickly. “I always have the worst timing, you know? The first person I find that actually wants to spend time with me, who thinks I’m worth caring for, and it's in the middle of a war where pretty things like love don’t survive."  
  


“Oh, my dear,” the older woman sighed gently, clasping her small hands in her warm ones. “Is this something you’re willing to fight for?”

“I…” Bri hesitated, heartbeat jumping in her chest. “I’ve fought for everything in my life. Fighting for this would be no different."

“You are a Cousland by birth, my dear. An old and noble house bound tightly with the wars of Ferelden. War is in your blood, it is your very nature, and it is no surprise that love finds you when you are embroiled in conflict. It often finds those who deserve it in the hours that they need it most.” 

She dabbed Brienne’s cheeks dry with a handkerchief, tucking the soft, silken fabric into her hand. “You deserve love. You deserve to love fully and to be so fully loved in return. It is the Maker’s will that brings love into your life at such a time. War can be the end of many things, yes, but it is often the flames of the forge that strengthens swords and tempers bows. Things rise stronger from the ashes of destruction, blooming more beautifully when placed against a backdrop of a voidscape. Just have faith. The Maker’s will is strong and true. Do not fear it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, any comments would be greatly appreciated. I'm worried about this seeming too rushed.


	19. Interventions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brotherhood is strong in Skyhold with the addition of two brothers to two Commanders.

Summer chipped away for Bri in long stretches of quiet spent in the gardens, learning how to sew with the help of Mother Giselle who hated seeing the woman so restless and unhappy. Of course, the unhappiness was not from one sole source, after all. She couldn’t play with her dogs, she couldn’t go hiking in the woods, she couldn’t run the dogs, she couldn’t climb a tree. She was also being ignored by her fellow Commander, or as much was possible. He never came into the gardens anymore, and the most she’d see of him was if he was on patrol up on the ramparts.

It was lonely, really. She’d written both her brother and sister multiple times while in her captivity, waiting oh-so impatiently for their replies.

 

The brace had been removed a few weeks ago, but she could not fully bear her weight on the injured side and it was still uncomfortable to walk farther than the keep’s main room. 

There was some chatter she could hear from the front gates, and most of the time she ignored it. But her curiosity won out, stuffing a crutch under her arm and hobbling into the doorway of the keep, at the top of the stairs.

 

Waiting down at the gates was a familiar figure on a pretty tawny mare. Her eyes went wide and she laughed, yelling from her spot. “Fergus!”

“Ah, there ya are!” He shouted back with a loud bark of laughter, dismounting his horse and preceding to make his way to the keep on sure feet. Bri shuffled to the end of the top step, and Fergus snatched her up, lifting her off of the ground in a bear hug. “I’ve missed ya, little bird.”

Bri wrapped her arms tight around her brother’s neck, pressing her face to his shoulder. “I’ve missed you too. You don’t know how nice it is to see you.”

He chuckled, grabbing her crutch that was leaning against the door, wrapping his other arm around her back and carrying her to an empty table. “I know, little bird. It’s been too long.”

To the Orlesian nobles mulling around the hall, it was a strange sight indeed. Fereldans were not normal by any of their standards, but a noble did not often come to a military fortress just for a social visit to a Commander.

Fergus helped Bri ait at one of the tables, dragging a stool over so she could prop up her leg. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Maker, Bri, I feel like its been forever since I’ve seen you.”

She gave her brother a smile, “You being here is more than enough of a gift, Fergus.” He held her hands, grinning widely. 

“Good! So, tell me about this other Commander guy. Words spread fast, baby sister.”

Bri’s body went tense, and Fergus’s mouth pursed into a thin line. “Do I need to kick some ass, Bri? I swear on the Maker, I’ll do it.”

“Fergus, please,” she mumbled, sighing. “Keep your voice down. No, you don’t have to. It isn’t his fault.”

“Like the Void it is!” He responded, leaning forward and grasping her shoulders firmly. “If he hurt you, I swear, he’ll be eating his meals through a straw.”

“Fergus Cousland, would you calm down?” Bri almost laughed at his anger, as misplaced as it was. It was enough to make her smile. “Maker. He didn’t do anything but follow orders. Its my fault he’s got to follow this one.”

“What happened?” He inquired, sitting beside her and grasping her hand in his own. “Surely there’s something I can do to help.”

She gave a half-hearted shrug, worrying her lip between her teeth before speaking. “Obviously I got hurt.” Bri gestured to the leg apathetically. “I was pinned against the wall of a cliff and this huge, twisted red templar behemoth slammed my head into it, knocking me out and crushing my leg. Cullen just… Got me safely out of harm’s way. He’s being threatened with discharge because he deserted the field of battle. Honestly, I should be too since he carried me out, but I guess being injured doesn’t hold you responsible.”

Fergus ran a hand through his hair, gently rubbing Bri’s arm with his other. “And, what, he’s not fighting for you?”

“Fergus, that’s not the point. Its that he cannot perform properly as a Commander when I’m there. The Inquisitor wants to cut all of our ties so that there’s nothing compromising missions like that. Sure, our lieutenants did stellarly at leading, but that isn’t their job. Its ours.” Bri leaned back in her seat, resigned to this melancholic feeling. “I miss him, that’s obvious. But, we should be putting our duties over everything. It was… Reckless to think we could continue like this and perform as best we can.”

  
  
  


Cullen pressed his hands to his temples, slumping at his desk and resting his forehead against the hardwood of its surface. He was surrounded with paperwork and reports, bottle of ink nearly empty and a few quills lying broken on the floor beside his chair. He’d taken to writing home lately, something that was long overdue, and his sister made sure to scold him for it. He told them about his work, about Skyhold. About his new friends and how he keeps finding dog hair in his clothes even after they’ve been washed.

Branson calls him an idiot. The biggest idiot.

Cullen had stopped reading at that, pressing his fingers to his eyes as they burned with exhaustion. He needed sleep. He needed an outlet for this stress. He needed a strong drink. He needed a hug or two. 

He was about to get up from his desk and take a walk when the last line of the letter caught his eyes, obviously scrawled by Branson.

Great. Now was not the best time for Cullen to have to entertain his brother of all people. He got up from his desk just in time for his door to be slammed open, a disgruntled, grumpy looking man standing in the doorway. Dark hair all a mess, thick arms crossed over his chest. 

“Branson. This is not the time for a social visit.” Cullen grunted, standing up straight and looking at his brother. “Can’t you see all of this work I have to do?!” He gesticulated wildly to the mounds of papers on his desk.

“Uh huh. Yeah. Don’t care, actually. Mia and Rose literally begged me to come and help your hopeless case.”

Cullen narrowed his eyes, sighing. “You’re insufferable. And I’m not hopeless! Don’t know where you’ve gotten that idea.”

Branson turned, shutting the door and picking around his office, being nosy as always. He picked up a small globe, tossing it between his hands. “You are hopeless! One trip and fall and you’re giving up. At least give it a go,Mate!”

“Branson, please. This topic is not up for discussion.”

“Says who, you? Oh please, Cull. The whole family’s been hopin’ for this, for you to actually not be a cold and heartless being who can actually feel love!” his brother barked a laugh,  setting the globe back down with as much care as he could. 

Cullen’s face screwed up in discomfort, rolling his eyes and rubbing the back of his neck, trying to dissipate the tension gathering there. “Branson, please, this isn’t funny.”

  
  


“But isn’t that what love is, Bri?” Fergus asked with a smile, looking at his little sister in her obvious distress over the situation. “Being stupid.”

“I wouldn’t know, actually,” she responded stiffly, narrowing her eyes as her older brother, whose face grew soft at her admission. “I’ve never felt like that.”

“Oh, little bird,” he sighed, rubbing her head gently. “Well, I dunno if it’s going to be like that for you. But men, it makes them do really stupid things. Like running headlong into a fight with no hope for getting out of it unscathed. It’s like… Sense of preservation? Gone out the window without a second thought. It is, in its nature, reckless and stupid. But Maker, Bri, you’ll never get a feeling like that very often. Feeling so strongly for someone that your own personal safety is inconsequential.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Aye, but that’s love, little sister. It‘s stupid and it makes no sense and it makes you feel really crazy.” He smiled, squeezing her hand. “But it’s worth it. It’s the Maker’s greatest gift, after all.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing and leaning on her hand to look at Fergus. “Since when did you get so knowledgeable?”

“Since I got married again.”

“Ah, of course.”

  
  


Cullen steepled his fingers, listening to Branson drone on and on at him standing in front of his desk. He’d kind of spaced out at some point, staring at the ink inch up his quill as it sat daintily in the bottle.

“Cullen! Maker, would ya listen?” Branson griped, smacking Cullen in the head with one of his own reports. “Tryin’ ta teach you, here.”

“Branson! Put that down, for one. For two, it’s not gonna happen.”

“You’re a dirty git. You don’t even know how you feel and you’re more than ready to just brush it under the rug and forget ‘bout it! There’s a living, breathing, very much alive girl that fancies you! And you’re too afraid of what your boss will do to you if you so much as think of her, right?”

“No! Branson, you don’t get it!” Cullen snapped, his aggravation showing. “I can’t do my job because she takes up way too much of my mind. She’s all I think about. Its ridiculous and not to mention dangerous for me to be so compromised that I can’t command as I’m supposed to! That lapse of judgement could cause tens of thousands of people to die. I don’t like those odds.”

“You know what, I reckon you need to stop idolizin’ her. She’s just a girl, not some sort of goddess, even though you might think so. “ Branson tossed the report on his desk, tapping his foot. “Have you ever taken her to dinner?”

  
  
  


Bri ran a hand through her hair, smiling softly as she listened to her brother talk on and on about his new little girl. Apparently she was just like her blonde aunt, full of life and vigor and with little regard for rules.

“You should come and visit, little bird,” Fergus smiled, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out. “At the very least, it’ll get you out of here.” At that, his voice grew quiet and serious, clasping Brienne’s hands in his own. “You aren’t yourself here, Bri. Its like someone’s quite literally clipped your wings. And it isn’t just the injury. You never let that stop you from getting what you wanted before, so what’s different now?”

She swallowed, licking her lips nervously. “It’s nothing, Fergus, I’m fine.”

“And you’re lying, to me of all people.”

“Fergus, it's not that--!”

“Simple? Yes, it is.” He rose from his seat, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll be back soon, little bird.” Fergus left without another thought, and Bri groaned as she slumped in her seat, hands covering her face in frustration.

 

 

“You’re takin’ her ta dinner. You’re tellin’ tha’ poor girl that you’re sorry.” Branson was not having any of Cullen’s backtalk, arms crossed firmly over his chest. And then a wicked grin grew on his face. “Or I’ll take her ta dinner’n do it m’self.”

“You wouldn’t,” Cullen growled, a flame of jealousy burning hot in his chest. He knew how his brother was -- a ladies man, a player. He knew he wouldn’t be what she wanted, or even what she’d want to spend an iota of her time with. “She’d punch you in the face.”

“Ah, what’s a broken nose for love, mate?”

“Branson. Please, for the love of all that is beautiful.”

“Then  talk to her!” The man insisted, pursing his lips in aggravation. “Good things don’t just sit around for long, you daft git.”

 

There was a sharp knock on the door, one that made both men go quiet and glance between themselves. Normally, anyone else would just walk right in, and very few people actually knocked on his office door.

Cullen rose from his desk slowly, walking over and opening the door. He came face-to-face with an extremely angry Fergus Cousland, who grabbed the front of his tunic and dragged him out of the office. “I heard you’re trying and failing to court my baby sister.”

Branson poked his head out of the office, glancing at the two men locked in a terse conversation that was mostly one sided and being done by the dark-haired man who had Cullen jammed against the wall.

“How--?” Cullen stammered out, confusion and fear curled together in his mind.

“Because my baby sister talks to me. And even when she doesn’t, her demeanor speaks for her.” Fergus’ jaw was tense, the muscles tight and bulging beneath his skin. “You’ve really hurt her. And I’ve half a mind to throw you off this keep and let you get eaten by wolves.” His voice was low and dangerous, hazel eyes boring into Cullen’s like red hot daggers. 

Cullen swallowed audibly, fear leeching into him like he had been doused in it. Not even battles scared him, and yet here he was, fearing this man who held very little standing here besides being a noble. There were a tense few seconds in there where neither man made a move, until the Commander spoke.

“How do I fix it?” His voice was nearly begging, eyes wide and full of an unspoken fear that he had irreparably damaged his chances. That was the last thing he wanted, and the absolute worst outcome.

“Go to her.” Fergus snapped, stepping back and jabbing a finger towards the keep. “Do not keep her at arm’s length just because you’re afraid. You aren’t the only one you’re hurting by keeping your distance.” He paused a moment, glaring towards the keep. “Your Inquisitor is an imbecile to refuse to allow you to form attachments when she herself has. You take care of my baby sister, or I will make sure those dogs of hers tear your throat out.” 

  
  


Bri could see the exchange from where she had hobbled to at the entrance to the keep, leaning against the door with a crutch under her other arm to stay balanced. It wasn’t like her brother to become violent or combative, or even confrontational in such a manner. But, she could almost feel his anger from across the yard. 

She propped herself up by her crutches, hobbling very slowly towards the stairs that lead to the ramparts, taking her time and being mindful of the pain under her arms which was a seemingly unending feeling lately. She needed to defuse the situation between Cullen and her brother before someone got mortally wounded.

 

Bri hadn’t realized the Commander had been running to her, and in an instant she was lifted off of the ground and held in a tight hug, complete with a very hard, very public kiss.

And for once, she returned it without hesitation.


End file.
